Sixteen steps away from death,
you stop and take a breath.
You step forward three more steps,
ignoring the fall of an unknown depth,
then stop and take another breath.
Thirteen steps until the ledge,
you stumble forward six more steps,
(wishing you had already leapt).
Seven steps until you fall,
you remember the pain, bitter and dull.
Four more steps is what you take,
three more and you've made your fate.
Still you take two more,
and the sight is something to adore,
only darkness and nothing more.
You force yourself to stop and think,
while you teeter on the brink,
and then you stop all thought.
You reap what you sought.
A weightless step,
without another breath.