Thoughts in the Dark

Oh but to stand on the pristine ledge, nothing but the bare expanse of abyss to welcome your roaming eyes.
Oh but to be enveloped by the ever wondering mist. Ever changing, growing, becoming that which is feared by the moon.
But here we do stand, not on the ledge but on the precipice of countless failure. walking the knifes edge to that, which is sought most of all...