We stand on the edge of a precipice daily
Asking a silent voice on the wind, should I jump?
Should I just step-off? I’m sick of this cockamamie-
Life, this isn’t real, nothing here is really—real.
Yes, many of us have gotten close to the edge.
Close enough to hear a pin drop, land thousands-
Of feet below; but for most “later without regret
They endure” they grow and on their journey doubtless…
They accept they’ll be back in the future one day.
But hopefully, they’ll be better furnished
Having-faced-whatever turmoil waters aweigh.
Having-steered and severed their anchors, rocks, adverted.
It will be ever so slightly that bit easier
To pull back and avoid an outright catastrophe
With each hardship faced, we become a bit steelier
Hopes pursued defeat these and each new malady.
On The Edge Of A Precipice
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