Events, when they are seen in isolation

Appear to be somewhat disconnected

When in hindsight, and some trepidation

Reveal to us more than we expected

A wind that blows in cool and leaves us hotter

To dream of light, and the gravity that bent it

Like ripples from a stone cast in the water

Moving backwards towards the hand that sent it

Understanding landings when you make them

Standing on both feet, you feel disjointed

Staggering towards laws before you break them

Each mis-step divinely pre-appointed

But still, you have the feeling that you fell

From nine to eight and then from eight to seven

Close you eyes and walk blindly into hell

Or look around, and find yourself in heaven

For in that moment just before the fall

You find the slip no accident at all