Obsessed with the climb,

You chose to walk the line,

To stay on the edge.

Straight ahead,

No thoughts,

No thoughts…

But, the cliff sides steepen;

The path narrows.

Violently violet wisps of thought

Like willful mists

Reach up to your feet.

They beckon,

“Think!”

“Think!”

“Use your head!”

But, you keep your eyes on the horizon,

And you walk the edge…

No thoughts,

No thoughts…

The landscape shifts,

The skies darken,

Voices beckon from beneath.

Their screams of anguish

Roll over your soul,

But, no harm, no effect.

They are far.

No thoughts,

No thoughts…

One path, one purpose,

To stay in the edge,

To walk the line,

A stare-down with the present;

A disbelief of tomorrow;

A suicidal affair with just one more step on the edge.

The path ends.

Your thoughts invade.

The sun sets.

You look behind.

There was never a path,

Just the edge,

A narrow line of craggy death;

With no way back,

No road ahead…

Marjan Farzaad 5/5/1989