The Opposite of Falling
It is what we are once all these layers we carry peel apart and we are left in our flesh, and in the thickest of all, in our bloody truths. It's whether we stay the same once we know, whether the change of being clear and naked, if we see each other as something greater or flawed beyond our ability to repair. Perhaps that is too vague. When you see me with my true flesh, will you remain, and when you bare yourself of the colors and shades of who you really are, will I still remain. There is no answer to that, we either stay or leave, and both have their merit, I mean, after all, everything here is being spoken and done, truthfully. Sometimes the truth about someone can be so severe you become alienated by the once-familar and what lies before you. There is no passage to return to how things were, when things such as love vanish they tend to form into another. This other, is not the same, it is where an end, or death, means there is new life being born. With its first steps, its first sights; everything is new, and the old, that good ole feeling, that person who once was the barer of love is replaced by someone that much more truer. It is in failure we learn the truth. It is in pain we learn pleasure. And it is in forgetting we learn new ways to see our lives.
Where we once fallen, we are soaring, no, we are flying high above, no, it is something that can only come after great grief, pain, and suffering, it is earned, it is real, and it is the truth. It is the opposite of falling.