L’appel du Vide

Danny Whirlow, C’21

I am a thanatologist.

On these cliffs I study, contemplate.  

The wisping air has pulled me off path  

Again, 

Itself a strait weathered by  

Other wayward souls.  

My plodding stops and I look out over  

The misty water. The only thing distinguishing it  

From the gray skies is its turbulence. Below,  

Rocks rise out like fingers attached  

To a massive hand, entreating me to take hold  

And slip below the waves.  

At the edge,  I am no more courageous if I step forward

Than if I step back.

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