Standing above you,
I decide that I can jump.
A new trusted stranger holds my shoulders
1, arch… 2, one-thousand… 3, one-thousand… 4,one-thousand
On 5 I must remember
The world looks so small from up here
There’s no way that it’s real
Disorientation and trust are an okay combination
As long as you possess the latter.
5, he makes a fist to signal
One hand up and the other on my shoot
A practice to maybe make sure it is still there
But all I can think of is my words to the clouds
Whisping through my hair, they guide me.
Sometimes to hear the wind you have to stop breathing