On the edge
of
his old world
he stood
on slippery rocks
green with grime
black with wrack
hair and face
speckled
by spume
beneath
the suck
and surge
of violent sea
an inch
away
from
eternity.

On the edge
of
her world
she stands
unbowed
by forest
dark
and bog
impenetrable
deep
grey hair
white of cotton
ling purple
black of night
glowing
in the
faltering
dawn
she waits.

On the edge
of
their new world
they will stand
facing
stormy
skies
asking themselves
with eyes
as yet
unspoken
whether
they should cast
adrift
into the
unknown
to risk all
for one
word
one word.

12/28/2005

Posted on 12/28/2005
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