Waterfall

By Yarrula

On the edge of a precipice,
I stare into the dark abyss,
The flow of water falls from high,
Like the rain drumming from the sky.

The eerie roar drifts from below,
Where no one faint of heart can go.
The column of mist rises tall,
It looks to be the end of all.

The water, chilling to the bone,
Bites into the unyielding stone,
It strips the earth and lays it bare,
Cold and naked to misty air.

It's not distruction that I see,
But nature's power shown to me,
With its glistening spray thrown high,
It is most pleasing to the eye.

The waterfall has its own force,
It sweeps along the watercourse
Naught can stop it's mighty howl,
Not even winter's ghastly scowl.

It will exist for ages more,
As it existed years before,
Everlasting, and filled with might,
A great, magestic, awesome sight.