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...