Stand at the precipice, trace the edge.
Press your body into the wall of stone behind you.
Close your eyes.
Lean out.
The wind rushes forward to catch you, but too late.
You fall.
The atmosphere cuts through your clothes, your skin.
Tumbling naked before God,
suspended only in time, the trees below stretch out their
bony fingers to catch you.
Life and death crash violently together, their impact
ripping through your body, tearing you limb from limb.
Open your eyes. Retreat.
It is not your time to fall into flight.
One day, death will give you wings, and you will rise
beyond yourself.
Not yet. Stay, a little longer.
Life must have its way.