What I didn’t know is that there must be a fall.
Not the one when leaves twirl to the ground,
a carpet of jewels as first chill fills the air. Nor
one where a catch sends me to earth’s surface
bracing against unforgiving ground. There is
the fall as I reach for something, planned
and seeded and bloomed, then poisoned
with ego, a duo walking two paths, not one.
Not those. No, not those. When I let all fall away,
open my hands and allow them to rest by my side,
clean out my heart, make room for nightfall
to fill in crevices, except for that one simple flame,
yes, there, so small I almost miss it, the Flame that is
always there when I let my worry and fear just sit
until my eyes adjust, I slow my gait and breathe,
and I begin to feel the warmth of that tiny flame
growing, I allow it to seep out from every fissure for I
am broken open, no longer in control. It is there to light
my way, the way I continue on without map, without grasp, in
trust. I come to the precipice, nowhere else to go, no turning
back, toes curled over the edge, and I push off, leap, and there
is the fall into the arms of Spirit whispering I am enough.