ON THE BRINK

The wind keeps humming,

Like an oft-repeated tune,

On a fed-up traveller's lips.

It is gray all around;

In this drudgery of routine.

Waves crash angrily against the ledge:

You keep on asking me why,

Nothing is like it used to be.

How can a misfit answer,

When temples have submerged,

Trying to solve this cyclic enigma?

Standing on the brink of two worlds,

We find ourselves nowhere.

Author's Notes/Comments: 

Written in 1986.

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Sarah *~*~*~*~*~*'s picture

all I can say is wow. I really liked it because it flowed well and isn't so up-front to where it's simple poetry. Good good good