out on the edge,
people and places are seldom
what they seem,
lines become blurred,
light but a reflection,
faces come out of the night,
moving beyond darkness and death,
winter winds blow cold,
leaving trails of broken bones,
rising into the emptiness beyond;
out here,
all hope has died;
sitting here,
watching the rain fall,
nowhere left to go,
no more room to run,
the voices slowly fade,
the faces silently disappear,
everything passes with time,
nothing lasts forever;
is truth enough,
or does darkness win?
without love,
are you only
fooling yourself?
nothing is hidden,
that will not be revealed,
no debt goes unpaid,
a reckoning for every word
whispered in the night;
an accounting,
for promises made
but never kept.
.
.
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