by Rys Zhu
a trembling gaze set upon the sight before her,
daunting and stretching ‘cross the border of her sight—
like the curve of a crescent moon lying flat,
world whisperer;
from the top of Earth’s peaks, revealing before her eyes its might.
clad in metal armour and a fragile heart,
she walked across the platform, metal clasp in hand
taking the aim, ready to start,
as her feet touched air, hair unmanned.
no running could compare to the feeling of free falling,
eyes tainted by the trembling glasses skewering ‘cross her face,
life momentarily flashing, she softly seizes her surroundings,
a trembling hand clutching onto the handles’ soft waist
desperately calling to let go—
let lingering laments and festering fears go.
shutting her eyes the winds kissed her cheeks,
cradling her as she dove downwards back to reality,
following the zipline—yes, the zipline’s shrieks,
drowning in her fantasies.
quietly, silently,
“yippee.”
for the simple cathartic joy it brings.
RYS ZHU has an unhealthy attachment to coffee, hates 8:30 classes, and enjoys tomfoolery – when she’s not swamped with deadlines. Given a chance, she would gladly be cooped up in a cozy little cottage taking care of cats for the rest of her life. Lots of them. Preferably fluffy ones.