reality is like a hammer
all too often does such
great heights end unexpectedly.
it's the price one pays
for such freedom;
that of flight.

what wondrous places
our mind can take us
only to drop to the
deepest of pitch black.
or worse--grey.

in pitch, at least we see nothing.
but with grey…
a hint of what could've been,
what once was.
over and over again it plays,
without end.

when i said suspended,
i never meant like this.
caught, like a startled bird,
whose journey ended way too soon.
maybe in its mind does it still soar,
feeling the wind through its wings.

as the saying goes:
all that goes up must come down.
never did it mention grey.
worse than gravity is to
remain suspended in such a way.