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.
