The Jump
Wandering from place to place,
Waiting for the fall.
Longing to know where to find it,
Wondering if they’ll find it at all.
If it comes, what will the result be?
Will it be a crash to black?
Will it be a splash to blue?
Could it be an embrace of warmth?
Could it be a frozen stare?
Who really knows?
It certainly isn’t the meaning of life,
Some will say it’s the meaning for life.
Some will scoff, and claim you mad,
Others’ll smile and take your hand.
But in the end, who is right?
So we all fumble forward, ever pacing,
Racing, racing, to be the first.
But is first place always the winner?
Could it be that the grass isn’t always greener?
I for one am on the fence.
Suppose that the first isn’t the victor,
Suppose that the last isn’t the loser.
In the end there are still those in the cast.
I’ve watched enough to know those who’ve,
Proved me wrong time and again.
Regardless of black, blue, hot, or cold,
Like the noble lemming, I will follow.
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