(These were a few thoughts I wrote down before rappelling off a cliff near my home in November of 2015. They were some of the thoughts I'd been thinking as I made the approach hike. Not much of a poem, but I scribbled them down and then got to work on cleaning and bolting a new climbing route. An hour and a half later I was in the middle of the wall being shot at by a sniper from the road above. Maybe I was never in danger of being killed as I was probably almost a mile from the shooter, but the bullets were whizzing around my head with some hitting just a few feet away. Once I got down for the next 15 minutes I was pinned behind a boulder wondering if I’d make it out alive as bullets continued to ricochet off the rocks above and plop into the ground of the slope below me. It was surreal, but eventually the shooting stopped and I escaped with no injury. 

It all just seemed so random and crazy - what kind of world do we live in?! And then there was this poem in my pocket, which makes me wonder if it was some kind of premonition.)