• In this midnight fog,
    swinging in the dark lit park.
    There is no sound. No doubt.
    No question to be marked.

    It's just me here and the dark.
    With the creaking of my swing
    as I begin to spin. Thinking
    of the things within.

    Now it's time to swing, and I
    swing as high as I can. To let
    go is to fly, to fly is to land.
    To land is to fall.

    Unwind my fingertips from the chains.
    I ask my self a silly little thing.
    Once I fly...Where will I fall?

    The question unmarked.
    It's time for me to embark,
    onto journey into the dark.