After a decade’s journey of the heart,
I find myself at the edge of the world,
At the cliff of the sea at the end,
And there you are in the waters below.

You are not my departed one,
But you are the one whose hand I have held,
You walked beside me through the storm,
You said it was I who helped you,
But it was you who helped me.

I see you aboard the ship of your progress,
You built most of it yourself,
Though I may have held a hammer,
Or tied a rope,
Or encouraged you to keep on.

So far away you are in those turbulent waters,
You I have called captain and commander,
You in charge of your own ship,
Your bow pointed towards another’s shore,
And you ask me to jump.

You, who no longer hold my hand,
Stretch out your fingers from below,
But my journey has left me with only one wing,
If I jump, I cannot fly, and you will not catch me.

“Come with me,” you say,
“Jump, and hold onto my voice.”

My toes are over the edge,
They feel the mist from below,
To jump I must close my eyes,
For I do not want see how I am to live or die.

As I step into the air,
A strong hand latches onto mine,
Someone pulls me back from behind,
And you are still calling my name.

I turn to see this other,
Who holds my hand so tight,
He looks at me like he sees me,
Beyond the skin, the journey,
The walls around my heart,
He holds my hands in his,
As if to warm them,
And I look back towards the edge.

“Don’t do that,” he says,
His voice like something familiar,
From a distant memory or dream,
Or from another life entirely.

“Don’t walk over that edge,
At least not alone,
And never with your eyes closed,
You need someone to catch you,
You only have one wing.”

Lightning strikes behind me,
It shatters in the sea,
And I still hear you calling,
But his eyes have caught on me.

I try to look away,
And with a gasp I see,
That I am not the only one,
Who has lost aerial ability.

“What happened to you?” I ask,
Stepping a little closer.

“What happened to you.”
He smiles down at me,
“You really want to fly again?”

I can hear the waves crashing below,
And I whisper “Yes…more than anything,
But I’m scared.”

“Of falling?” He asks.

“And not remembering how…” I whisper.

“Don’t fear the fall,” He says,
“Fear the initial edge,
It’s that edge that keeps us grounded,
Falling is what helps us fly,
I won’t let you fall alone.”

“You can’t either,” I step back,
“You also have one wing.”

“But together we have two.”
He leads me towards the edge,
And you are farther out to sea,
But still you’re calling after me.

Looking down towards the water,
I shiver with fear and close my eyes,
“No,” he says as he takes me in his arms,
And I feel so small there,
With this stranger, somehow not a stranger.

“Keep them open,”
He places my arms about his neck,
“And hold onto me.”

“But-,” I look towards you.

“And look at me,” he says.

“But-,” I can still hear you.

“We’re doing this together,
And you have to see me.”

“But-,” I can’t see you but I hear you.

He gently turns my face to his,
“You think I’m not scared too?”

I look into his face,
A face I feel I know,
Yet how can I?

“Do you see me now?” He whispers.

“Yes…” I whisper, hanging on tight.
I could see everything,
Like looking in a mirror.

“Don’t close your eyes…”
He places his lips on mine,
As we step from the edge,
And I awake.

I am back from whence I was,
Where I fell asleep,
In my forest of time and memory,
Frozen in the past,
Asleep in my fallen leaves.

The stranger awoke me with a kiss,
And all had been a dream,
Yet your voice still echoed,
“Please, come back to me…”

“Who are you?” I asked.

“I saw you here asleep,” He said.
“And there were tears upon your cheek,
Perhaps now there won’t be.”