We stand now upon the edge of our lives
A jump in our hearts and tears in our eyes
The road behind us is tangled and marred
Ahead lies only the darkness of stars
The night is cold
Only the wind marks the passing of time
The tick tock of leaves, a slow, hollow chime
Slowly the pale mist shall strangle our sight
Should we not act on this longest of nights
We will grow old
It is an apathy that comes with age
Smothering ashes of impotent rage
Our Will reduced to its basest of forms
Quickly around us foul ignorance swarms
Should we be bold?
Only with echoing cry do we find
The courage given by prophets is blind
Pondering a plunge into the unknown
We must risk the void of dying alone
The saddest of stories are those that aren't told