Dancing on a Cliff

Dancing on a Cliff

Hiking up a mountainside, the winding trail so narrow,

Taking care to try and skirt each haunted pit and barrow,

My steadfast mind is broken from its eyes kept on the prize,

For my ears have heard a lovely sound, and though it is not wise,

I depart the path in front of me, entranced by lovely lies.

Enticing music radiates from every bush and stone,

In this clearing off the beaten path, and I am not alone,

For it’s played by fiends disguised as fairies, but this I do not see,

I’m only just enraptured by the tempting melody.

And I dance to the rhythm, for the feeling is so free.

 I dance around the clearing, discarding all my gear

Because it’s merely in my way, and now I have no fear

Or sense of preservation, no more dull rational—

Which would only serve to weigh me down as far as I can tell—

And the music moves me onward, so I bid the glade farewell.

The siren song is beautiful, the tone, the subtle riff,

Even as it now leads me to dance upon a cliff

With appearance of white chalk and shell it has but from afar

Though upon closer inspection is really black as tar

And jagged just like broken glass, in grotesque shapes bizarre.

I should go back, I should depart, but my will is weak,

I tell myself I’ll go no further, in my conscience warnings shriek,

But I desire dancing to the song until just before I come

To the edge I’m fast approaching, deeper than I can fathom.

So I hold off on salvation, which is really very dumb.

I’m dancing on a cliff edge, precariously balancing,

Not yet too late to turn back, yet still I take another step.

My foot lands on air, buckling knees, a twist in my hep,

And down, down, down, I go. It does appear I have fallen.

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Daniel Charland

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Daniel Charland is a staff writer for The Lorian.

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