On the Brink

On the brink, on the edge
The precipice, the abyss, the ledge
You reach out to me,
Your cry for help
 echoed by a host
 of survivors
 and of ghosts
silently insisting I step up.
My heart trips on the weight of it.
Can I weave my words into a lifeline?

Stay.
Live.
Learn as long as you can
And I will too.
Let's meet on the mountaintop at the end
and share stories of our adventures.

The Jagged Edges

Contemplate the jagged edges:
of raspberry leaves

and soaring pines
of shredded clouds
and war-torn souls
of letters etched in granite
and the pores of aging skin.

Can you feel the edge of God's shadow
when you wander inside it?
Can you know the shape of God's footprint
when you stand within its walls?

Jagged edges give
to floating molecules their form.
They are the borders
that define the name-filled world.

Borders come in many shades.
Let us not get drunk on them.

Does shadow imprison light
for crossing the border at noon?

Awake! (inspired by the words of Paolo Coelho)

Awake!
Awake!
     though the world is still in darkness
Awake!
     though you want to sleep
         just a little longer.
Awake!
     and look up -

Look up from the dust and dung.
Look up from the muck and mire.
Look up and you will see the stars.

The stars.

They shine still
     through the half-destroyed roof of the world.