It is strange what happens when the world comes to a stop,

When the routines that we worship

Crash upon the shore

And we are left with foam in our hands.

It is strange how safe we feel with the day-to-day,

Never giving much thought

To the marching of our steel boots

On a path made of glass.

What happens when the glass breaks

And the fall commences

Into a ravine we assumed did not exist?

Not all falls are the same.

There are those who see the sky,

Still as blue and still as grand,

Imagining that not much has changed

As they plummet farther down.

There are those who see the ground,

See the edges getting clearer,

Struggling with the notion

Of looking at something that should not exist.

There are those who close their eyes

And feel the wind blow through their hair,

Who refuse to see the fall

And instead just feel the flight.

It seems madness and acceptance

Are not so far apart.

Perhaps one is just the other

In a clever disguise.

Is the side that we embrace

An act of chance and blind luck?

It is tempting to shed off

The weights of circumstance.

What is yet to come?

Look close at what there is,

Where the fingers get pointed,

Where the anger turns sour.

How easy it is to hate.

How simple the targets seem,

Whether invisible to the eye,

Or prominent on TV.

When the world begins to crumble

And the blame begins to fly,

Keep your mirrors still intact

If you truly wonder why.