Mister Fiskar (On The Edge)

Shapeless clouds scud angrily overhead
As Mister Fiskar stands silently.
Cold, fat raindrops splat sullenly
Onto his domelike, luminescent head.

Dangerously distanced down below
Lies the sea; all great and hungry.
Foam flies, waves die
And the wind cries violently.

Mister Fiskar stands on the edge,
Nature passes him by.
All his failures and mistakes
Shoot him between the eyes.

He shouts out with all his might:
"Who wants or needs me now?"
But no-one's listening to his rage,
No applause at the end of the show.

But Mister Fiskar's tortured mind
Heard an answer to his plea:
"We want you now, we need you here!",
A voice cried from the sea.

Mister Fiskar looked straight down.
A rare smile escaped his face.
Two steps forward, no steps back
Into cold, dark space.