Teetering

Teetering, teetering, on the edge of despair.
On this precipice I stand so high.
Breathing, breathing, this heavenly air,
So drunk on this bliss I could fly.

Flying, flying, weightless I feel.
The breeze caressing my face.
Soaring above this ocean so real,
Salty freedom is all I taste.

Tasting, tasting, this dry victory at hand.
For one more sip, I yearn.
My thirst only quenched by the sea so grand,
A journey to which I now turn.

Turning, turning, to the only way down;
At the bottom, my reward I shall reap.
Attaining success — to quiet the sound — 
Forever mine if I just take that leap.

Leaping, leaping, through my mind with such grace
are images of all who I’d leave.
I can’t say goodbye — not to one single face:
Silence will bring no reprieve.


Courtesy of A. Hanna, Founder: challengethestorm.org