Ever screaming towards a distant point unseen
the whole of everything is barreling past
who could have known the world would move so fast
the rushing air and tears pulled by the slip stream
at a speed that makes the journey seem obscene
Clearly the moment to stop has long since passed
but an ending is coming – this cannot last
a sad finality one could have foreseen.
The destination approaching is a dream
lost inside a memory one can’t recall
but in its approach one can feel it defined
though the path may have a conclusion it seems
the journey was laid in cold repose at the fall
when from thirty stories up I chose to resign.