At the end of the earth there’s
a diving board for each of us, where
grieving souls and soiled hands
search for a higher place; everyone
hopes for security.
Truth exposes itself in various colors;
nighttime is when the fear of alone is
invisible. Long stories and dreams about
voices no longer present fill the cavity
of indecision.
It’s a long way out, like a
forest without paths or an ocean void of arrows.
Each of us comes to their own conclusion, hoping
for a safety net, after the jump.
Roger Singer 