Part III, The Brink

Here I am, standing on the Brink, I must choose; The path to the left, or the one to the right? On each, it looks likely my life I would lose; Or take my own life by jumping off, Sweet Night. But, afraid as I am, I can’t end my life; Not without doing all to save my soft skin. The tunnel no option, must deal with this strife; Right or left? Which is best? Which way shouldst I begin? The trail to the right looks steeper, but shorter; The left is more level, but somewhat longer. Right or left? Left or right? My mind does barter; None looks easy, but to leave, I must be stronger. Unable to decide, I spit in my hand; And then slap that wad of spit with hardy force; And watch as the wad flies left onto the sand. It be the left trail I’ll take, by chance of course. One foot on, and then two, facing the valley; Downward I inch, with my heart in my throat. Keeping courage up, for now I can’t dally; One misstep, I could fall, my life be remote. The path gets narrow, my toes hang o’er the edge; I scarce can breathe, so powerful is my fear. I try not to look down, but my eyes do hedge; At red valley below, I am forced to leer. My body quivers, sweat pours from my body; But the hope of relief drives me ever downward. The flatland at the bottom, my hope does embody; I can look up at the Brink, ever upward. Tho felt like it took hours, at last I made it; On the red sand of the valley, now I stand. Which way go I now, I wonder in a bit; For I am a stranger in this oddly hued land. Off to my left, rise oddly shaped mountain-things; Off to my right, red sand stretches endlessly. The mountains are black and high, where are my wings? The sand seems to have no end ‘til eternity! Making my choices, I decide to go left; Hills are closer than walking sand ‘til my death. Might be more than hills, I see many a cleft; Go there I must, tho it take my last breath. So, my feet dig into the sand, left I surge; To mountains that might be something else you see. The closer I get, the more I get the urge; They be made by man, or demon, what may be. [My God! These aren’t mountains, they are stone castles.  Where is that guy I was cursing earlier?] Written September 9th, 2001 © on Sep 09 2001 12:20 PM PST, Brazos Mason   0 • 10