The Edge!

It didn't take a pound of flesh
but a ton of mental stress
to turn the wheels of change
and roll with the incomings
to the edge of where I'm at.

And the edge a place of reverie
where moments congregate and play
soft symphonies of stay right here
or beat that drum of change again
and find another edge.

How sweet and lilting is the tune
of a comfort zone
until the passion rises
and o'er lays the same with dread
of that same old, same old, edge
that neither holds nor caresses
an embedded need.

I love the drums; they move in me
a sense of hopeful restlessness
but too the symphony in me
plays hauntingly of history
that always brought a traveller back
to that same old dreaded edge.

Edges are the damndest things;
they even come in visions
but not long enough to show and tell
whether just a thought or fall!