History tells stories of all who’ve not lived
to tell it themselves, which is all, by the way.
Is everyone, save one. And which means all my days
too have their wending toward the edge of the cliff
where, with no wherewithal to stop soon enough,
I will join history along the dark plunge
toward what some think something like a medieval dungeon
but I think it different: a sudden opening up
to wide, wider spaces than I even wonder
could be. Could be simply I note one exception
defying the cliff-fall: a lone resurection,
the first of a company, and I in its number.
– Jeff Reed