I stand upon the precipice,
gazing back at a dream.
A thread once loose and wandering,
now woven into a seam.

A tapestry of longing,
stitched with hope and fear,
each moment spun in silence,
each choice now drawing near.

The picture forms before me,
a life I dared to weave,
but dreams demand a reckoning;
shall I stay, or shall I leave?

The depths below stretch wide, unspoken,
a hollow song, a siren’s call,
but somewhere past the fear, I wonder…
what if this is not a fall?

What if I was made to fly?