The Thrill
I remember sat at Malham once
right upon the edge
What is it like just to let go
to jump and hold the breath
I’ve fallen out of aeroplanes
with packet on my back
and screamed a silent scream of joy
before opening the pack
Then flying without engines must
be the final thrill
as kestrels soared around me
I turn and follow suit
Yet flying through a maelstrom
of flames and biting dust
can be no joy to all of those
their last and final choice.
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