From lofty heights, a body takes its flight,
Propelled by rage or fear, a desperate act.
The window frame, once whole, now shattered quite,
Becomes a portal for this violent fact.
Glass rains like diamonds in the morning sun,
As gravity exerts its forceful pull.
The air rushes past, the deed is done,
A moment’s choice that time cannot annul.
In Prague’s dark history, this act was born,
When men were cast from castle windows high.
Their fall from grace, both literal and sworn,
Etched deep in lore that none can now deny.
So when we speak of things thrown to the wind,
Remember well the fate that’s thus been pinned.
Bob Lynn / 20-Oct-2024
