Trekking across the ground.
Rope in hand, I tripped.
The fear was entering,
Growing, festering
I was about to do the impossible.
The peoples voices echoed,
In the canyons inside my brain.
“You are not good enough.”
“You will fall.”
Fall.
Fall.
Falling down into the cloaked grasp
Of the canyon.
Final silence;
Death.
I slip once more.
But passage will not be to the depths!
Passage will be to the other side,
Where victory and welcoming
Finally call out my name!
It is time.
Time to succeed.
The rope drops to the ground,
As does my mouth.
Does the chasm look bigger?
My shaky hands grasp the rope,
I haul it off the ground.
Get ready!
Tied secure?
I begin.
One foot in front of the other!
Carefully, steady does it.
The tightrope strains beneath me.
Think about your victory.
Reaching the other side,
Hands clasping mine.
Cheers!
Astonished faces!
Safety.
My thoughts broke;
As the rope tore.
Free from the dead trees bark.
Empty space around me,
My hands trying to fly.
Their voices echoed in my brain.
“You can't do it.”
“You're not good enough alone.”
“You will fall.”
The darkness enveloped me,
I fell.