No one seems to know how close to the edge I stay,
what a near thing it is for me to survive another day.
Falling, falling, falling, down and ever down,
'til falling takes my breath away and, gratefully, I drown.

The silver gray of moth wings, the dull white of eider down,
threaten ever to enwrap me in a filmy clinging gown.
Deeper still and deeper, 'til I see the sky below,
forever sighing downward as I swim against the flow.

The gargoyles have taken over, the cathederal is theirs.
Nameless terrible dream monsters are stirring in their lairs.
Falling, falling, falling though cold reptilian rain,
better end with one bright flash of light and one bright shriek of pain.

With a taste like bitter yellow brass burned by bright barbaric sands,
my soul dances like heat lightning, my life hangs in jeweled strands.
And no one seems to notice how close to the edge I am,
how high the flood is raging, how tremulous the dam.

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