I often find myself standing at the precipice of loneliness,
unaware of the bed of hands waiting there to catch me.
And so I reached toward the hands that leapt for me,
hoping that they would pull me up to sure safety,
so I would never see what’s at the bottom of the cliff.
And then I’d never learn that it’s okay to fall sometimes,
as there is always someone there to catch you—
even if you can’t always see them there by your side.
There’s always the few that come to the rescue,
even if you tell yourself otherwise.
And that’s the illusion of Isolation Isle,
where the world can never see your smile.
And so I’m to take a chance and leap into the great unknown,
to find myself among more shipwrecked boats in the ocean below.