Fear That Doesn’t Quit

Standing on a razor-sharp flake,

Toes dangling off the edge into void,

The only audible sound his breathing,

He pauses to assess his next move.


I contemplate what he must’ve seen as he was falling.

The end of his rope, frayed and desperate?

Life with his lover, gone in an instant?

The view of his adventure, gigantic before him?


So many have died with their boots on

that it makes me question whether

we’re ending our own stories prematurely

or simply nudging the hand of God.