test_poem

AT THE EDGE OF THE WORLD AND FALLING



At the edge of the world and falling,

wind whistling through my hair,

falling upside down or sidewards,

plunging through air,


waving goodbye to the treetops

(Who said the world was round?)

and a long goodbye to the far blue hills,

the solid ground,


and to faces, dear-loved faces,

so soon to be falling too,

now fading, slowly upwards,

into the blue.


The end of the world comes always,

comes once, and comes to all.

Whatever exists is falling

in a free fall.


Darkness, plunging through darkness--

What an awesome, what a boring thing!

So to fill up my time while falling

I'll try to sing.