Well first you’d have to lose
Nearly half of your hope to just
Walk on the edge, then I would
Say become as sad as the thought
Of first snow, the dusk that brings
Winter and you may enter just far
Enough to hear the elk in alarm
Trample off as if they are walking on
Glass, then if you are brave and not
Afraid to die or have already died
I would say walk until the only thing
You see laying on your back is the
Soft impression of raven’s wings
On the canvas of this eternity/