fly high; now fall.

on any given day you’ll find

                a laughingdancingyellow streak of light:

                                sunshine-bright and uncontrollable;

                you’ll find a sneaking, smirking spot of green:

                                laying over everything in sight,

                                coloring each moment with its mischief,

                                                with its joy.

these are commonalities—but such is life, you see,

that every happy-shiny time

should have its reciprocal. and so,

on any given day you’ll find

                an empty sky: hazy, dreary, blue;

                you’ll find a stormcloud, gray and boiling,

                                and down from it will come

                                that which once flew high: now fallen—

                                                to land, splayed and helpless,

                                                covered by the lonely purple mist of twilight,

                                                wandering this endless maze

                                                with blackened eyes and knuckles stained

                                                the rusty crimson hue of battles lost.