Heart tests at the edge
of life like a foreign blade--
thumbing gingerly for sharpness,
knowing surety will come too late
unlike the blood swell sure to follow
Like regret,
Like time,
Like age.
Moorless ships, we flounder
on the edge of a burning sea--
awaiting the expected undertow,
welcoming certain calamity
just to be going somewhere
To feel,
To move,
To breathe.
Inevitable folds of darkness
crouch just outside the door--
threatening our fire,
pulling hard across the floor
towards a weak and trembling flicker
Going dim,
Going out,
Going forth...
moving on.
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