The Glass Floor

Underneath me

is a glass floor.

If I looked down

I would be able to see

the world below

my sky-lit existence.

But I do not.

.

Instead,

I look up

at the clouds,

the sky

and the trees

that have grown high enough

to reach the level

I reached

on the backs

of the plants below me.

.

Below me,

green tendrils

fight each other for supremacy.

It is harder and rarer

for one of those plants

to break through

the tight knit undergrowth.

.

It would be harder

for them to rise

than for me to fall,

I have more vines supporting and tying me

gravity is a powerful foe.

.

Each step I take forward,

each position I assume

is like a splashing ripple.

But even if it

would be better

for those below me

if I self-sacrificed

and gave where I am

to another.

I will not,

because I cannot let myself

fall.

and that could very well be

the problem.

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