I stand at the peak,
awed at what’s before me,
unable to speak,
to beg or to implore thee,
for strength and nerve,
your grace to serve;
the courage to advance,
and take a step away,
from lofty peak perchance,
to fly away today.
For what will hold me in my flight?
How is it I can soar
from such a fearsome, daunting height
with faith, and nothing more?
And would I leap
through empty space,
my soul to keep,
before your grace?
I must, if I am true to you,
believe, and fly as others flew.
But thoughts of falling fill my head,
the net effect of spirit dead,
the thought that fills me most with dread –
that it was not for me you bled.
But in the end
I did ascend,
my fear suppressed by my desire
to ride the wings that you inspire.
So slowly, slowly, over time,
I understand what made me climb.
And now I stand,
before me sky,
with unseen hand,
away I fly.
.