Where The World Ends

It’s a little spot Just past the trees At the end of the road Where the sidewalks meet A real small little place So apart from the fray As the world bustles on The river bends to get away At the far end of the tunnel Past the edge of the cliff At the bottom of the ocean When it’s the final riff When there’s so much left to do Yet there’s nothing to be done The wise man will speak again His mouth opens like a gun The wide-eyed scout the edges Their teeth glisten in the sun But they daren’t step inside Lest they ruin all the fun The children sometimes play here Though they like to keep their space But they leave once their eyes open And they can’t see what they face And the world is always ending And this place will always exist And we can hardly stand the waiting The surreal urge we must resist To anticipate the day It clutters open like a cyst.