I stand on a precipice, held bound my books of learning carved from stone.
I find myself looking down, at the floating clouds of my dreams. Below, surrounded by a raging sea, jagged rocks wait to smash me into an oblivion of failure. But at my side a breeze of hope, a lightness of heart.
With naught but myself to hang responsibility upon, I leap out into the void. And you jump beside me, tasting hope upon the wind.
“Let us make wings as we plummet,” you cry out as our bodies move between earth and sky.
Wings of imagination unfurl in the wind. Stronger than any steel made by man, or stone broken by nature, these iridescent pinions take flight.
For we are creative beings.