By Pulchritude and Intelligence
From a distance.
He’s on the cliff
He’s lucky to be a friend
He’s close to the edge
Of the cliff.
The gently blowing wind feels great
Its caress on his skin is soothing
Getting better with every step
That takes him closer to the edge.
He’s on the edge
The sea is beautiful
She is stunning in all her
Curvy waves and shades of blue
She’s more pleasant than the caress of the wind
She’s making sweet noises
That are drawing him
to let go and take the dive.
The descent is inevitable
He must take it to the next level
By falling down
He’s midway in the Journey of the Dive
The waves are making a different sort of noise-
Intelligible and frightful blares
that are difficult to believe
They are telling him
The sea has a bond with
Some rocks below
He can see some sharks
Conniving with the rocks
Charming the sea.
Anger. Self-pity. Depression.
How come he is just knowing this?
This mass of water should have warned him
Or should he have told it his mission
before the plunge?
Should he have seen the images
and heard the noises more clearly?
He needs to get back to the cliff
Only a miracle can take him there.