Poetry

[Nabil Naser]

This infant species
Which has yet to learn to walk,
Is crawling towards a cliff.

Led by the haunting sound of a spring breeze above
And the beckoning, crashing waves, down below.
Yet to the cliff we race.
Shoving each other aside.
As we rush up, to the edge
To fall.
Do we know what is in the waters below?
To survive
Holding to nothing but a winning dream?
Those we shoved aside as we rose,
Higher up that most challenging peak?
Did they push us over?
Will we make it back to shore?
To try that climb again?
Or will we succumb
to the Gods of the sea?


L&P
NN