Enlightenment 12: The Raise

Help me, I'm falling, And I might crash, When I hit the bottom. Someone grab my hand, Give me hope, Or at least a parashoot, I might die. But no one's here, To see my distress, But that doesn't mean, That it's not real. Someone grab my hand, Give me hope, So I may survive, This terrible fall. If a tree falls in a forest, And no one is there, To see it, It does make a sound. So please grab my hand, Give me hope, Before I hit, Rock bottom. The ground seems to get, Bigger and bigger, Or is it closer and closer? I knew that my end was near, As is the ground, I braced myself, For the death of a hopeless soul. But wings burst from my back, Outstretching and showing their beauty, These are my wings, The manifestation of my hope. I stretch my wings, And sore through the air, Whipping through the clouds and sky, Safe from my doom. My black wings blend with the night, I realize that I wasn't falling before, I was escaping, Coming up and raising, From the land beneath the earth where I was born.