A Graceful Fall

Hand me a pencil
And I'll write you a story
A sad, melancholic tale 
of an epic fail; a search for glory
I will tell you all about a boxer
Who could no longer feel his fists
It will be a love story of a man to himself 
And action sequences full of twists
This man could be anybody 
But he happened to be the son of God
It was obviously kept a sealed-tight secret 
Or else he'd be outed as a fraud
But this man is not the hero of my tale
Oh heavens, not at all
But rather the real star in my eyes
Is in actuality - this man's FALL.
Because to fall from grace one must let go
Let go of power, let go of any trace
And face the ungraceful emptiness
That every human being must face:
To live on earth is to be small
And longing to reach the tallest hill
But to be taken on a ride of curses
And the damnest of them all; 'free will'
I wish you gave me an eraser
So I could start anew, a fresh beginning
One that's hopeful and full of joy
One of a boxer who would be winning
And to this tale I say 'enough!
It hurts to write you, it's a sore!'
But a writer must tell the truth as it is 
No matter the battle, no matter the war
Art is there to persist and so are we
The small flawed humans beings that we are 
And now I wonder who's the hero of this tale 
Perhaps the writer is in fact the real star 
Because she swims with sharks 
And tells the tale
Regardless of the pain it carries
She goes to the belly of the whale
Maybe we can all learn from artists such as she
The ones who carry on despite the rain
And show us how to gracefully fall from grace
And that even in the fall, there is so much to gain.