I cut through the air like a blade. I am a torrent of leaves kicked up in the wind. I grasp at the fabric of the universe and wrap myself in its tensile folds. The higher I climb, the more the internal doubter makes himself known: "But what if you fall?" Does the spider fear a fall from her web? Do the stars tremble at the possibility they'll plummet from the heavens? I dance with the mighty gale; I am cradled by the weave of the universe. The doubter will never know the air as I do.