The edge so close, so near
A jagged line, so clear, so opaque
Ramrod, he stares neither left nor right
Stiff, unmoving, unflinching,
Unnerved?
Perhaps he wonders what lies ahead
Inch forward, Yards backwards
Which one?
Thoughts pinging in his mind?
Back and forth?
Or nay?
Beyond an expanse so vast
Pastel clouds pasted on blue so vivid
Pockmarked vibrancy in comforting hues
Reds, greens and yellows interlacing
A chequered canvas in nature's paint
Then again...
A plunge below so deep
Frothing waves, crashing surfs
Naked rusting groundswell of anorexic offshoots
Creeping, whispering silent wails
Of nails scratching on stone cold walls so white
Or maybe...
39 steps of weird zigzags
Unsmooth gradients, random shrubs
Tiniest blooms, flitting butterflies, trailing crawlies
Uneven tracks, loose pebbles, solid soil
Leading nowhere, heading everywhere
So
Inches or Yards
Which shall it be?
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