what if the fall was the initiation?

some men are made
only after the fire
undoes them.

some boys become men
when they stop flying
to escape gravity
and start sinking
to learn how
to feel it.

what if flying was foreplay
and the crash
was the climax?

sometimes we find our truth
in the wreckage.

some men need to break
to remember they were born
of water.

not every fall is a failure.

if you think falling is the end,
you’ve never been kissed
by rock bottom
with your wings torn
and your mouth full of stars.

it’s easier to shame the fall
than admit you’re afraid
of being tender enough
to be caught.

if you’ve never bled brilliance into the sky
only to land in a lover’s tide,
are you even living?

imagine mistaking your rebirth for ruin
because your myth was written by men
who feared the softness of the sea.

i’ve never trusted advice
from people who are too afraid
to burn.

people call me a poet,
but i’m just icarus
after the plunge.