The idea hung tentatively on one of the low-lying branches of my mind.
Swaying, considering the ground below with each breath.
Crisp and ripe for plucking, I don't have much time before
It plummets into the void
Of revelations lost.
But this moment suspended is too beautiful,
Too delicate to touch with muddied words.
So I let it fall,
Perfectly tragic,
Dying the death of an untested hero,
Whose potential glories will be inscribed
Into the stars.