At the edge of the ledge stood I, once again, with an indecisive heart.
At the edge of the ledge knew I, what I was to leave behind.
At the edge of the ledge watched I, once again, the sun reflected from morning dew.
At the edge of the ledge found I, for the first time, that part of myself which won’t falter.
At the edge of the ledge was I, alone, ready to take that step I had not taken before

The step beyond was but the first of many;
for the truth is not always as you foresee it.
At the cloud of crimson, future awaits for the ones who believe.

This entry was posted on Monday, April 15th, 2002 at 17:17 and is filed under Poetry. You can follow any responses to this entry through the RSS 2.0 feed. You can leave a response, or trackback from your own site.