There’s a cliff and I stand on it
One foot proudly waving in the air
I’m stuck there supported only by one
In time the cliff will crumble and reseed back into its mountain
And will I fall?
Or in time will they come again, mining away at the rock behind me
Not a choice I’m making but simply waiting
Waiting for the valley below to be greener
And for the sunrise to be perfect
There is that day that exists in me
Will something ever sprout below?
Will something beautiful ever belong here?
Who would know such answers?