I perch on windowsills for years, waiting to jump, believing I can fly. When I finally leap into the arms of the air, I land on my feet in another room, just like the one I left.
Staring out of windows, I have believed for years that the outside is a different world. The sky holds her arms out wide and tells me, “Jump. Don’t be afraid. I will catch you.” It takes me years of courage to push off from that windowsill. With my clumsy wings of hope and desire, I leap and land inside again.
I still believe in windows. And after I readjust my wings, I may take another leap.
Icarus by Keith Newstead at http://www.cabaret.co.uk/artists/keith-newstead/
Image of Icarus from http://blog.dugnorth.com/2008/05/flying-mechanical-icarus-automaton-at.html
year-struck 
I think that you have been successfully leaping into other worlds for a long time now. Just reading your posts tells me that you made it to somewhere else, and have come back to tell us about it. Maybe you just don’t realize the return trip!
Thank you, Ruth.
I believe in windows too. Happy leaping!
I thought you might. Happy leaping to you as well.
Beautiful.
Thank you.
What a fabulous flight of fancy. You may not sense it always, but I know you can fly: you take us skyward many a time on the wings of your words.
This piece reminds me quite a lot of an Eric Whitacre composition my husband has conducted a few times: ‘Leonardo Dreams of His Flying Machine’ (here’s a YouTube clip of him conducting our friend Philip Brunelle’s MPLS choir VocalEssence in a performance of it
http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=nsLiivVgxmM ).
Kathryn, thank you for the link. What fantastic music!
I am listening to this piece right now and my husband is raising his eyebrows. Should I ask him to jump out of the window?
Only if your husband’s name is Leonardo.