Before I Heard [Writings From My Former Self; No. 2]

Legs forward, then momentum back.
I move upward.

The clouds make a causeway, the stars in between. My eyes are fixed upon them.

I sweep the ground and ascend. Up through the causeway do I wish to go! Up through that celestial gap and into the heavens! How I wish!

I begin to descend, and the clouds become distant.
Backward then do I go, and my body is directed at the dirt. I weep for my height.

But then I rise! My soul grasps for the sky.
Up through the causeway do I wish to go!
Let me up!
The straining alloy pulls me again low.
Let me up!
My motion perpetuates.

The color is at my back. All that was ever bright and beautiful in the sky seems behind me.

I push higher. I lose five feet, I gain ten more.
I move upward.

Legs forward, then momentum back.

The wind jars me, and I cry out. I ruminate on death. I converse with it freely, but still I fear broken bones.

The dirt becomes near then leaves me as I ascend again.

What space in the heavens bears my name?! Up through the clouds to where the air is not.

I weep at the sky. Such a pitiful motion is mine!
Forward and backward I go in continuous toil. Without work I will surely cease entirely. But as I do labor, the ground may jeer me less. But such injury awaits if my fingers loosen.