I sit at the edge
Of thought and understanding-
A stage, a port, a landing.
I sit, knees tucked, feet dangling.

And before me there lies
A depth like the shadow
Of a wraith or the fallow
Crypt with graves too shallow.

The abyss, fog veiled,
Holds my gaze, gazing deep,
Its darkness taking my hope to keep,
And it leaves no tears to weep.

But though it beckons,
I force a step back
Away from that sea of crushing black.
I take that step off from that track.

My feet are determined,
Strong and firm,
But then I see as my head turns,
My deepest fears before me confirmed-

For each step away
From that perilous ledge
Is but one closer to what now stretched
Before me, a looming dark cliff edge.

There, far above
My quavering form,
Like threatening clouds of the storm
There, where my psyche had been torn.

And I asked myself
How had I fallen
So fast and far, into this darkened
Nightmare, from which I can never awaken?


Penned by my hand on the 23rd of Valnuary, in the year 639 AF.