POEM

GWEN ATKINSON

'End of the World'

21 March, 2023
By Gwen AtkinsonGwen Atkinson '26 is a guest writer, contributing a range of fiction works for The Roar. 

At the end of the world
There's a cliff

It's tall and smooth
Like a skipping stone lost by giants
Truly a sight to behold

If someone falls
They're never found
They slip silently into the void
A bejeweled cerulean expanse that stretches forever

But
Some think that it's not a void, but a path
A doorway into the unknown
Into worlds so parallel that the travelers could walk unnoticed among the inhabitants
Into worlds split and disjointed, changed by a ripple thousands of years in the past

Butterflies dance around the void
Drawn into the blue
Fluttering endlessly
No one knows where they come from
They defy all laws of nature,
thousands of butterflies hatching out of thin air
Frail wings stretching
Just to sour into the azure abyss

At the end of the world
There's a cliff
A pool of cobalt serenity
When something enters the expanse,
a gentle ripple echoes out
and that's it
no splashes
no sounds
just gently slipping into the pool

At the end of the world
There's a cliff
The pool underneath it stretches forever
And no one knows where it goes
You could fall in, and disappear
Relegated to being another splash
Another ripple on the vast surface
Is it worth the risk?