A Weird Feeling

At night alone,
way up on the terrace,
40 floors will do I guess.
Just so when you look down,
all you can see around
are twinkling neon advertisement lights
and maybe the headlights of cars.
Small, insignificant by themselves but
significant as they mirror your alienation from them.

And the stars must be out.
I don’t know if a cloudy sky will do
(don’t have a reason to believe it shouldn’t).
All you must hear are whispers that lend themselves
to no human explanation.
And a sound that can’t be differentiated
into it’s components.

From the edge then you will peep down,
and get repelled back as from alternating current.
But like that adventurer who is drawn into the crater of the volcano,
you too will inch forward,
each time checking if the closeness affords a view down,
till you are at the edge again.
And maybe this time you will want to fall.