I know the edge of the world lies
On the line between life and death.
And on each side are mournful cries;
Two choirs created of wasted breath.
I know because I am this line -
Not alive, but neither dead.
Between limited and endless time
Lies me: a lonely spark of dread.
And in this limbo I await
The decay and scattering of my soul;
Which endlessly itself debates
As to which side I shall go.