Is it some mere floors above?
Or perhaps at the graceful end
of a coiled rope?
Is it within the depth of a well
with its liquid blackness
calling out my name?
Is it next to the warm comfort of my bed
in a clear bottle that promises peaceful slumber?
Shall I choose the obscure hour of my birth
where the night and day met?
Shall I choose the music of raindrops
on the tin roof to bade me this farewell?
Shall I in a splash immerse myself
in the arms of an immense lake
and leave in my wake
a few ripples?
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