To the Leap

There are tales waiting in scripts

Whatever there was, there is this

Like trampolines or cobbled stone

Bounce or flatten

This is the wrestling theater

Converging love and fear to be the bold

The dangling sensation of flowers and costume

The wise flight of the owl by night

The sense of the girl flowing to the grass

Borrowed boots and time to ask

Will I in time be able to let go of control to you?

For she holds onto the stick-shift motioning with the curves

Something skewed the tracks or so it may appear

I do not know and assumption is a cell mate of Renfield’s lunacy

Storing flies, to spiders in a collection of distraction

Therein I will pause such contemplation

Into a pool of patient discovery leaning

Of marriages, loves, adventures, siblings, patterns and means

That there are no immaculate heroines or gun slinger bandits

Only stargazers making a mark before the return

Atomic dust and the cautious and hasty fires of suns

I am me; let thy be

Whoever thou are; I will dance

This shall be as it is

The illusion is to state paradise premature

Love in the chemicals doused, time to bathe

Opportunities colliding, enter so and parry as you wish

I am coming to the leap!