On The Edge
By hyargo
Standing at the edge of lucidity and repast, I contemplate many new things, Wondrous and frightening, Brilliant, though not as to blind. My mind toils with such possibility, The sound of your voice, Reaching to take my hand. I look on with cautious hesitation, Yet, I find nothing to fear, Waking thoughts bring clarity, But my answer unfolds slowly, still. Written January 7th, 2002 © on Mar 11 2002 10:58 AM PST 0 • 10
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"Standing at the edge of lucidity and repast,..."