the grasp

this rope you grip,
to climb the mountain,
you soar high and above,
reaching the skies afar.
at times you don't have a grasp anymore,
you let it go,
you fall.
but at other times,
you hold on to it,
as you witness,
a beautiful meadow,
on the peak,
of the mountain.
but most of the time,
you'd slide down the narrow slopes.
you'd swim in the oceans beneath
instead.
you dive into a world,
of another.
as you say goodbye.
and even if it's greater than the ocean's depth;
brighter than any skies could be,
you'd still let it soar,
away.
as you have no will power
left.