The frog he croucheth on the pad
And shouts with anxious call,
“The deep! The deep!
“The glinting deep!
“It beckons to us all!”

From lotus throne the frog will gaze
For hours at once thereon.
The black and inky
Waters drink;
He feels his will is gone.

“Rip it! Rip it! O rip my heart!
“O render it asunder!”
Amphibian twixt land and pond
Decides his way is under.

To swim into the endless deep
Requires determination.
O Frog! Desist!
He can’t resist.
He feels a great elation.

The sunlight dwindles and dies down.
The blackness takes possession.
It tries to snare
The twinkling glare
It is his last obsession.

We have not seen the frog return.
We’re not sure where he ended
His final swim.
What called to him?
The deep. Rip it. He descended.

O! Sometimes, I can hear that voice.
And some day, I might follow.
I seek the dark, mysterious void,
Whenever life seems hollow.

What is that shimmer in the deep—
That brightness in the gloom?
O, can it bring me peace or sleep?
Will it bring rest or doom?