Moral Dilemma

beautiful, Beauty, Creative Writing, Future, Humanist, Journal, Nature, New, Personal, Poetry

It feels as though the world is lapping at me,
Eating away at my heels as I try to make my way.

Like a rock on at the edge of the ocean,
Never getting a break from the endless torture
That is the ocean’s softly beating wave.

Back is sore, feet bleeding, hands callused
I’ve held on this far, but I was never promised an end.

Not a moment goes by as I brace to the cliff
that letting go isn’t considered,
but if I do, the cliff will fall,
Cascading into the ocean.

Atop this cliff, a child sits, their fate is my decision.
I can hold on, turn into to stone
As the water relentlessly beats me with its salty hand
Or I can let go, and let the ocean guide us into the world
of eternal night.

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