The Knife Edge of Life

Standing on the cliff, a view from height at the sheer destructiveness of the thin barricade of rocky destruction before the ocean of time carries what remains of its victims  to the infinite beyond, that only those waves are permitted to reach

Some stand precariously on the edge with no hint of fear as into the expansive abyss they stare without reaction, response or care for what doom beckons them forth, what fatalistic doom threatens to carry them into the death

Others run to safety at the slightest sight of that fatalistic doom, no bat screaming out of hell can match the speed with which the fearful project themselves with failing grace away from that cliff

I stand with a premeditated lean towards the open arms of such wilfully destructive forces, a fall is but a necessary step to what my fractured nature has already promised death

Ask the brave why they stand without the limitation of fear and with triumphant relish they will declare “If I fall I will fly, if my wings do not unfurl then my skin will be of stone and back again to the top I will climb”

For the fearful a cry will out “Fate hath shown me, death awaits me and into its sweet arms I will not go willingly, with speed I will delay my fate”

Ask me and I will stonily return a glance, for I do not know why I stand, feet unwilling to move back, body unwilling to fall and until the second of decisive fate that which within me decides will a commitment to action decline

The days hath passed, hours noisily faded and minutes ticked with increasing fatality, seconds now before me

The brave with encompassing relish show off their wings, cowards, the safe, run with speed that to time is blinding as my feet are waiting, my fate is calling

But it is not quite the second, so my glance will stonily remind you that I am not ready to decide



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