Sitting on the edge of consciousness,
Legs dangling over the side of a cliff
Whose walls lead down to the abyss below.

That place surely contains death.
Not for the distance I would fall to reach it,
But for the blackness that would overwhelm
And ultimately consume me.

Vines of intelligence,
Thickened by the ropes of common sense,
Bind me by my wrists and ankles to life.

For I am sorely tempted to jump,
Just to see whether I can conquer death
Or if it will conquer me.

Sitting on the edge of consciousness,
I know I have a simple choice between life
And death.

To sever the ropes which bind me to life,
Would allow me the freedom to jump.
But I fear I may lose myself on the way down,
Before I can test myself against death.

Or perhaps I misjudge.

Perhaps the test of life is to not jump at all,
And the act of jumping itself would condemn me.
However, to turn around and walk back to consciousness, to life…
I shall not suffer that shame again.

So here I sit,
On the Edge of Consciousness…
Indecisive.