A poem. Original, obviously. It's called "The View from Halfway Down." (clears throat)

The weak breeze whispers nothing.
The water screams sublime.
His feet shift, teeter-totter;
Deep breath, stand back - it's time.

Toes untouch the overpass,
Soon he's water bound.
Eyes lock shut, but peek to see
The view from halfway down.

(audience applauds, cheers)
I'm not done, hold on. I'm not done. I'm not done. (clears throat)

A little wind, a summer sun,
A river rich and regal.
A flood of fond endorphins
Brings a calm that knows no equal.

You're flying now; you see things
Much more clear than from the ground.
It's all okay -- it would be,
Were you not now halfway down.

Thrash to break from gravity;
What now could slow the drop?
All I'd give for toes to touch
The safety back at top.
I changed my mind. I changed my mind, I don't wanna...
[Herb: It's okay.]

But this is it. The deed is done.
Silence drowns the sound.
Before I leaped, I should have seen
The view from halfway down.

No!

I really should have thought about
The view from halfway down.

[Herb: Find your peace, big guy. Find it.]

I wish I could have known about
The view from halfway down.