Cowardly Heights

I'm a coward when it comes to elation, because I've learned the fall breaks more than bones, sending shards into the bloodstream. I've felt the brush of angels and woke to the snarling face of devils as they shed blood within the cycles of my dreams. Nothing prepares you for the plunge from divinity to rot, and I can't remember where the memories fit. So, I envy the snake who never rises and sheds its weakness like a map. I envy the fish who sleeps within its sky while the ground rises to swaddle fins in the dark. I've been been an invisible flake of night, a secret in the breeze; been glitter in sun, adored for pushing light away from myself into their faces, so I live with a steady caution. My hope is that one day the earth will turn to blue when the sky falls and I'll sink beneath the bits of day as one prepared for the collapse. Though I fear the mountain, I know, the statue carved by nature will one day form the pedestal on which I rise. On that day, the coward will fall to glory.