Off the reel you can feel the tug of tension,
Curbing and reining in its urge for ascension:
Root a footing, and a tight grip
To get the hang of it, not to let it slip!
Listen to the vast void strumming the string
And you may hear a silence thrumming a chord
To make ripples too rueful for a heart to sing,
Like a boat pushing off shore with a soul aboard!
A body and a soul agree to cut loose
Each other such a heavy burden to lose,
The former entrusted to a corner of infinity,
The latter as well to the embrace of eternity.
You go on letting go in belief and disbelief,
Till the resistance, after but a brief relief,
Snaps off free from the pulling hand of grief,
As a gust blows off the last hanging leaf.
The day on the hill, they found
They could not nail a soul down to the ground,
Though, released, it must have hovered
Around for a resurrection soon to be discovered.
Yourself a ballast for a vessel in flight
Sailing against the aerial odds, or a weight
On a line to fathom the depth of fate,
Not missing the Southern Crux out of sight,
Cast a look following the invisible thread
Anchored at your heart up to the skies,
From here where we tread step by step ahead,
To the haven far beyond the reach of our eyes.