This Side of the Abyss

Stand on the edge of a cliff, The sheer edge inviting before you, Plant your feet firmly on the ground, Bend forward, just slightly, at the waist, And look down. The sudden impulse to jump Grabs your hand and jerks you forward You stop yourself just before you tumble Down into the unforgiving canyon below You tremble and shiver like a quaking leaf About to detach from the branch And fall to the ground below To shrivel and dry Close your eyes and see the same Or, as it seems, almost the same A delicate balance on the precipice, That part is the same, and yet The canyon of the waking world Does not pulse and bite at your ankles Does not seem so deep as to never end Is not as much a part of you as a limb Yet the impulse remains, with a threat That reverberates off of invisible walls; Step back and lose where you are, Who you are and what you have worked for, Or step forward and fall. Going over would be easy Especially now, as teeth clang around in your jaw Your skin crawls like there’s something beneath it, Like it doesn’t fit, Like it’s not even yours, Eyes wide and bloodshot as you bend Ever so slightly, just at the waist, And look down. The darkness below gapes like an embrace, Ready to envelop the willing And hold them And never let them go It’s the warmest, most frightening thing On this side of the abyss.