Aloft Again

I learnt myself some serious lessons, back there, down, on that ground. I found that I'd learnt myself some fear and loathing over the past two years.

It was all of myself.

Up here, in this packed 737, I'm wishing to fall from the sky. I'm not thinking to die...but maybe brushing the teeth of death will open my eyes wide enough to see hope.

I'm living for love, boldly; but, I am living for love in a romantic age, an age that's made dying for love all the rage.

Tell people you're living for love, they'll fear you, shun you, think you crazy.

Tell them you're not sure why you breathe and they'll breathe easy.

Live for love and some pull away; some stick around to watch your landslide, your collapse to a hard ground.

The plane is shaking like we're rolling over great stones in the sky. Maybe this is the end? My stomach is in my throat. Turbulence. Maybe this is the end.

At least I'd die having resurfaced my heart; at least I'd die having seen my fear and loathing and left them under a stone in the cold ground to die.

At least I'd die living for love.

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