Down, Down, Down

Like some cruel trick that nature plays,

My hopes and dreams, they are all raised,

Tantalizing, within reach,

As the carpet’s pulled beneath my feet,

And I do fall unto the breach--down, down, down.

At Edge of cliff I see them fall,

Higher still than Moher’s walls

I see them racing to their doom

Upon the rocks they’ll be consumed,

And they spiral ever further--down, down, down.

My hopes and dreams are sorely dashed

And, truly, I am quite abashed.

I dare not groan a single sound,

For fear you’ll hear the dreadful pound

My heart does make as it tumbles--down, down, down.

And yet, still again they rise,

The ever forward, onward prize.

Dreams and visions rare and true;

The things I’ll ever hold onto,

When once I grasp and carry with me—down, down, down.