The Edge

My tears brim over the edge of the fountain,
perched on the rim of death.
They spill into the depths of the well of water
and drip, droplet by droplet, into the abyss.

Flowing as rivulets into streams and fluid,
my filled soul embraces emptiness.
Bubbles of light dance in the heavens,
my earth's darkness wears its shroud of loneliness.

Black, starry hazy dreams come to me as I sleep yet soundly.
In my mind's eye quiet will come.
The brightness will blind me
and warm my tears of stone.