Standing above
On a golden cloud
A self-styled illusion
You will plummet
Further
Faster
And suffer more
From your fantasy
Than those you see beneath

I pity you
Your dreadful descent
As each cloud you create
To ease your plunge
Silver
Sapphire
Finally white
All swiftly dissolve
With opened eyes and mind

I wish for you
Assistant angels
And the ability
To allow them
To touch
Hold you
Even briefly
So you don't shatter
At the end of your fall

© M. Jo Taylor