Over the Edge I

Over the lip of conscious,
Into the void, a stately
Arc of darkness wraps
Like thick fog, the truth
Almost quilts the soul
It is just outside my reach
But at its edge I grip
That real stone ledge which
Hinges me to this place.

We all ask the reason we are here,
Cling darkly to our crag, set our feet
On singular roads
Whilst all around, others too
Grip ledges with their nails
Grind their teeth, hang-on

But blind we blunder on
All unseeing
What we do
What we have done.
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