Precariously you sit at the very
Edge, where lay the beautiful world below.
Trace the horizon across land and sea,
Randomly patched together in a slow
Arc beneath the skies, until our eyes meet.
Ask me softly why we're here, but I know
Replying would not matter, so I sit,
Keeping silent beside you, waiting for
Answers to echo from beyond our feet.
Nothing returns but the wind, so I fall
Into this world for you, melancholy
As wings slowing my descent, so I soar
New horizons, which you will never see.
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