That Hour

I am doing a jig at the edge of a precipice

The sound of the waves crashing against the rocks is the melody I dance to

The moon shimmered across the ocean like lights from a disco ball

The wind hummed like a base steeldrum

Clouds cast shadows over the stones, the grass, the trees, the sand

The weeping willow leaves whistled in the breeze

Still are the birds, the animals, the people

It is that hour, that hour right before conscious death

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