I am a crevice. Everyone steps Close— never in, always on. How can you? It's Too Small. Nothing in it will fit But It.
I am a cliff. People are Afraid, of course. To plunge to their demise by Accident. But would they skirt the edge court the precipice of darkness if they didn't want to know Where it Ends? When it Ends? How it Ends? If it Ends?
Of course, of course, they never find out. They never Move. Nothing happens. It tends to happen.
Then I become an abyss. People are attracted to the Mystery, but they know it's Dangerous. So they never fall in.
People can be wise, holes can be empty, and vice versa, and what other adjectives have you.
It's all the same. Those who Almost fall only futher Rip the fissures apart. Nothing is filled. Nothing is healed.