One cold late-November morning in seventy-nine,
John Parin stepped out, past his own quiet line.
Sixty-four years old, from the world withdrawn,
A coastal recluse in East London’s dawn.
Through a forested park by the ocean’s cry,
He walked where the treetops kissed open sky.
Though waves roared below on the far-off sand,
He hardly came here—this wasn’t planned.
No friends, no crowds, no family near,
Just one lone cousin he’d call each year.
Yet something that morning whispered, “Go,”
A tug in his chest he didn’t know.
So down the winding trail he strayed,
With crashing tides as the song that played.
Until round a bend his old eyes caught sight
Of a restless figure clenched in fright.
A nervous young man on the narrow track,
Pacing forward, then drifting back.
Not fierce, not threatening—just tightly wound,
As if courage were lost he was trying to find.
John sensed no danger, just mystery near,
And a deeper pull drawing him ever more clear.
Step by slow step, he came to see
The edge of the cliff by the violent sea.
Back and forth the young man went,
To the fatal rim with dark intent.
One slip, one leap, and the fall would claim
A life to the rocks and the coastal flame.
Then the truth struck hard like a bell in bone—
This boy was standing to die alone.
Others had gathered in silent fear,
Keeping their distance, trembling near.
No one moved, no one spoke,
Afraid one sound the will would provoke.
John stood frozen, his breath caught tight,
Watching fate teeter on the knife of night.
Then clarity burned like a sudden sun—
This was the reason his steps had run.
Not the park, not the sea, not the sky—
But this one soul on the brink to die.
From the crowd, the old man broke,
With steady limb and unbroken hope.
He wrapped one arm round the shaking youth,
And spoke just six words of shattered truth:
“I’ll show you how it’s done.”
Then forward he stepped where the earth ran out,
No scream, no prayer, no trace of doubt.
Down he fell through salt and air,
To the sand and stone awaiting there.
The sound was final. The scene was done.
The old life ended. One life was won.
The young man stood in stunned dismay,
Alive because death had gone first that day.
The horror struck him deeper than fear—
He saw his ending crystal-clear.
And in that moment, raw and true,
He chose the life he almost threw.
Grateful tears through shaking breath,
For the stranger who traded life for death.
John never knew the soul he saved,
Never saw the future he helped engrave.
But one man fell so one could stand—
A silent deal fate had demanded.
And far below where the cold waves roar,
One life ended…
So one lived more.