An excellent poem by William Robertson

A Letter between two travellers (a letter from someone who suffers with depression to one with bi-polar illness.)

From this short and shallow valley ,I write
wondering where you are on this starry night.
On the mountian high,as if to fly?
or in the valley low, is what I need to know.

If I walk on that level plain,
and see you about to take flight again,
I would grab your heels, running as fast as I can,
and if I couldn't hold on, I'd fall in the sand.

And from there I would watch you soar to the sun,
but I know for you what's next is no fun,
into the depths of the valley you will fall,
where there seems to be no help at all.

But in this place I also have been,
and been in parts that can't be seen,
and in those I will look around,
in hope that there you will be found.

For when you soar and burn your wing,
and feel the way the rocks of the valley sting,
when the dwellers of the plain look down,
you know I'll be around.

But if I'm trapped in this crevice you can't see,
please come down and rescue me,
I would do the same for you,
and I know you'd do it to.

For one day we'll walk on another plain,
on a clean clear path, free of pain.
I hope to greet you there,
because I know you care.

A Letter between two travellers (a letter from someone who suffers with depression to one with bi-polar illness.)

From this short and shallow valley ,I write
wondering where you are on this starry night.
On the mountian high,as if to fly?
or in the valley low, is what I need to know.

If I walk on that level plain,
and see you about to take flight again,
I would grab your heels, running as fast as I can,
and if I couldn't hold on, I'd fall in the sand.

And from there I would watch you soar to the sun,
but I know for you what's next is no fun,
into the depths of the valley you will fall,
where there seems to be no help at all.

But in this place I also have been,
and been in parts that can't be seen,
and in those I will look around,
in hope that there you will be found.

For when you soar and burn your wing,
and feel the way the rocks of the valley sting,
when the dwellers of the plain look down,
you know I'll be around.

But if I'm trapped in this crevice you can't see,
please come down and rescue me,
I would do the same for you,
and I know you'd do it to.

For one day we'll walk on another plain,
on a clean clear path, free of pain.
I hope to greet you there,
because I know you care.