White Cliffs, White Souls
I stand at the edge and look out.
I see the waves crashing against the wet rock.
I hear the screech of the gulls, the cry of their young.
Such noise. Such movement.
But there is more.
Something else.
The cliffs hold onto something more.
I let my soul rise and I gaze down.
I hear the cliff’s song.
Their song of loneliness.
The songs of white souls that strive, always searching for
a long lost hope.
My heart is pierced by a forbidden pain.
I see even more.
They battle for life.
A constant war against the punishing winds and the wild waves.
They fight for their right to harbour at the shores.
But in the end, when the dreaded time has arrived,
the cliffs will crumble,
great white stones falling into the sea’s dark depths.
To stand at the edge,
Like at the edge of the world,
You cannot just simply turn away.
You sense a strange sorrow and you wait.
It will come…
Listen…the song of lonely souls will be heard.
Look…the pale faces cry, drawn with lines crafted from
long, merciless years.
Feel the cliff’s endless pain.
Do not reach out.
You cannot wipe away the tears.
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