Dawning Creations

While near the edge
I find all of the directions I could follow.
I could hang on hang on the edge,
arms high above my head, looking up
with wide eyes, taking in the deep blue sky.
I’m familiar with the rush of nearly letting go,
of having mere seconds before slipping,
before thrashing messily, climbing back up.

I could turn, facing opposite way of the edge.
It would feel like looking away from an accident,
intrigue would beckon.
I would not answer,
would not turn and face the height,
face the burden of looking over the edge.

I could dash and cease movement right before the edge and veer down.
Vertigo mastering my limbs,
making me dizzy
and daring me to let consciousness go.

I could sit, feet slung, slumping over the edge.
I could let them swing in the breeze
while I gaze into the heavy horizon,
examining as far as my eyes can see.

I could wander around
and think on what to do,
I could decide in a split second or two.

Perhaps you will join me.
There’s plenty of room for all of us;
we’re all living an on edge.