Standing on the precipice,
Gravity pulls, my bones compress,
Wind rising from beneath,
Freedom screaming, “Take a leap.”

A few steps back, then start to run,
Jump off the edge, into the sun,
Hang for a moment, my senses quail,
Before the wind does kiss my sail.

A thermal rush, straight up I rise,
The Earth recedes before my eyes,
Into the blue that fills my mind,
The pull of gravity, long behind.

Turning left, a sweeping lilt,
The ground below a patchwork quilt,
Like majestic Andean condors,
Across the sky, my spirit soars…

A slow descent back to the ground,
Never want to come back down,
Another updraft, catch one last wave,
Before reclaimed as gravity’s slave.