Here I stand poised and taut at the edge of the world,
the wind rushing in gusts that nearly blow me over,
the world awaiting before me like a green cloth unfurled,
lying for me to ruffle it's feathers, a majestic field of clover.
Should I step back from the edge, back down and submit,
wind my way down the hill, heart filled with regret and what-ifs,
go back to a life of routine and monotony, a numbing vortex of a pit,
succumb to the safe hands of what I know and what is ?
Or should I take that step forward, a leap of blind unseeing faith,
suspended over a nothingness that swoops in to swallow and hold,
into the force that threatens to suck out my soul, leave me a wraith,
feeling as invincible and strong as only an immortal spirit could.
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