by Aidan Andrew Dun


The great edge
I tread exploring
conditions of hazard
vicinities of chance.

See the wind, glassy
traveller of heaven
rising and falling in
easily visible surges

Something to watch
without dimensions
close to the doomed
pleasure of falling

Strange ephemeral
weightless joy I shun
still dangerously flirting
with that final thrust

Which gives the body
to the void for a time
false remission with
a judgment to come.

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