Close to the Edge

Close to the edge, so close
And the fire’s burning.
The music’s playing old familiar memories.
It’s a grey day in late autumn
In a year of fear and hopeful reawakening —
Is there hope of resurrection?
In these grim, grim times?
But so grim?
A time to newly discover
The strength within;
To again see life as a discovery 
    — can it be done?
On a day so grey, in a year so fraught with peril
    and misadventure?
One at a time:  take things one at a time,
And they seem so small and easy.
Why hold expectations that lead to dismay,
Hiding from fantasy?
Breathe, meditate.
Build dream towers to climb to,
Not nightmares.
But it seems so safe and easy to hide
In the darkness
To never utter another “I”
To cease.
Why not?
Close to the edge, so close.
The fool looks over his shoulder.
The wise goat climbs with care.
The lonely may jump in despair.
How to be alone and strong?
Ask the high priest —
All is within/without you.
But to find that smile of understanding?
It is a search worth taking
Slow, easy, breathe.
.
.
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