Something About Babies

its the strangest feeling
its freedom and fear mixed in a delightful cocktail
its feeling like you can fly, if you'll somehow convince your feet to slip off the cliff
i'm standing there, the wind blowing so strong a tear rolls from my hazel eyes
adventure and hidden treasures await. it'll only take a little shuffle and a step

but what about responsibility? what about wisdom?
my feet itch for freedom but my mind is crippled with fear. and facts.
i'm still standing here, the salty air is tangling my curls
what if the responsibility is in the adventure? what if the wisdom is in the treasure?
I peek over my shoulder wishing someone would give me a push

do i really have to leap?

well i cant stand here, neither moving forward or moving back
but what if my wings fail me, what if all the feathers fly away and I plunge with no air in my lungs ... down to the rocks below

where all my dreams, and hopes will run out with my blood on the rocks.

i shuffle back. the fear is higher now.
my roots seem a much safer place to rest
i can be content here ...can't I?
I can have picnics and play in the waves.

but now its me trying to convince my little self of something bigger than a white lie
i already had a small sweet sip of flying
like sweet hot chai its already slipped down my throat

sitting here. staying here with my hand tightly clenching my roots
leaves such a dirty. familiar taste in my mouth.

i take a deap breath to fill up these shakey lungs
i shuffle forward with the wind blowing my curls wild
and now I just leap. Right?
I will.

Will I?