I am not the fallen, but the falling -- he who never hit the ground. And you may hope to know my call, but I was never there at all. I was sitting on the tower. I was dropping to the ground. I never emitted a flash of light, and never emitted a peep of sound. I am the falling, not the fallen. The one who never hit the ground.


I loved the rhythm in this poem. You did a very good job.
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Thank you.
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Love this one my friend π€π€
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Hmm, interesting. If you are the falling, not the fallen, does it mean you have it in your control? Do you fall out of free will, do you fall because you like the rush or were you pushed?
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Maybe, one has control of one thing β self-perception. And when everything else is out of control, one can choose to see the impermanence of oneβs situation and its capacity to define one.
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Love this one. β€
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Thank you
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I like this, sad but something in it is hopeful resilient
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Thanks.
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A beautifully controlled and succinct poem – a delightful read.
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