Speaking into Darkness

I am standing above a sheer fall.

All beneath me is darkness,

but I am told there are millions

living in the darkness;

what I am not seeing is vast,

unimaginably so.

I am told that I should speak into

this void,

that millions will hear my voice,

that my words will mean something

to someone, maybe to many,

that I should speak.

I look into the nothingness.

“Hello, my little angel”, I say doubtfully,

surprising myself with that choice of words.

I suppose I imagine children down there;

one child cowering almost into invisibility

beneath that immensity of darkness.