facing the chasm
All we have to decide is what we do with the time that is given to us.
when standing on the brink, toeing the edge
has less actual than romantic appeal.
gazing into the abyss, the unknown morrow
creeps over the eastern horizon as
night becomes today’s yester
and the predawn dark disappears, and dim
light lifts its luminescent life
over this land. the chasm’s floor
remains unseen, and the precipice abides.
longing for the passage of lost memories, face
the gap as the Ozian lion and
Fear’s prayer is wishful misplacement
of this rickety heart and loathsome cross.
"would that i never," declares the soul
and the echo of mind bears peace to its grave.
"surely i’ll die," threatens the self
and ego’s assent bids stagnant resolve,
and the feet hold ground as time takes toll.
and yet, some stirring of passion promises this pilgrim
the building of bridges above bottomless blanks
whose sole aim is to undo goodness in the name of safety.