To grasp.

To soar or not to soar, herein lies the chasm
Whether tis the purer chance to wait
Out the long and lonely imprisonment of fate
Or to strike out and flee its grasp
And by fleeing risk the heights. The heights-freedom-
The dawn, and a new life to grab hold
By the throat and a thousand new sensations
To breathe in and delight. The heights-freedom
To climb-perhaps to fall-aye there’s the terror
For once stepped beyond there is no reversing
And gravity’s dread grip may claim a soul
And end a life. That’s the fear that holds
Here in this mockery of life alive.
For those who passion and power
Would drive them hence and to freedom
Yet falter at the lip this round edge
Upon which hangs so much and I
Who balance on the ledge dare
Dare i? To brave the reaches of air
Which no man has like me climbed
To laugh at death and dash against the wind
This is a well-tempered terror
That keeps me meek and mild in this room
This room of walls and no doors
But only this window –and the heights
This fear doth grip hard and long
And many tho young and strong as i
Grow pale and choose the stiller course
While the wind sweeps on in mockery
Oh freedom o heights o death
I lose the impetuous at this height.