When it is the last
jump of the day,
The winds usually
flow off their way.
Evening winds are calm,
but may become variable.
unlike a strong breeze,
which is steady and stable.
A crimson cloud spread
is floating in the sky,
Towards the drop zone,
many canopies are flying.
We think about the future
and we all want to know,
It seems so uncertain,
in a mysterious glow.
When it is the last
jump of the day,
The winds usually
flow off their way.
The canopy glides softly
eager to land quickly.
A fluttering sound swells,
when the wind fills its cells.
During its silent glide,
I get a reflection on life.
An adventurous life is like,
living on the edge of a knife.
The canopy is like life
braving the random chances.
I feel the unsure winds,
are like the circumstances.
When it is the last
jump of the day,
The winds usually
flow off their way.
I trust my instincts
reaching close to the earth.
the joy of this jump
is what makes it worth.
As I inhale a deep breath,
hanging between life and death.
I will be jump again I bet
The touchdown is no sweat.
I cease all the efforts,
and let the body react.
Many things happen,
in the way, we expect.
When it is the last
jump of the day,
The winds usually
flow off their way.
Here comes the touchdown
as softly as expected,
The way we built our life
by the vision, we reflected.
The way we think the future
in the thoughts we reflect.
As the builders of our reality
That’s what we may expect.
When it is the last
jump of the day,
The winds usually
flow off their way.