I took this line from a poem that I wrote many years ago, originally titled "Confessions." It's kinda funny, because the poem in its entirety did not make it to the book in any shape or form. (Looking back, I find it long and cumbersome and not particularly great writing.) The last five lines, though, I think, are still pretty damn hot:
"It was never about balance,
but about how many somersaults
you can do as you fall.
Chaos and dancing stars.
No one flies on his first try."
