On the edge of the day, I rise in awareness.
I hold back as much of the coming day as I can
Resisting the onslaught, I breathe deeply. Stillness.
I focus. This is where take my stand
On the edge of the ravine
The canyons, valleys not so grand
Mist glides gently into the scene
A mysterious quality, a journey status quo
As it kisses each blade of grass.
Gently the wind blows the planted furrows.
The mist can not or will not embrace the path.
Moving closer to the edge,
I feel the changing of the wind
As the valley accepts its new lover
A display radiates across the chasm.
It looks like a bridge
Frosty and flat from one end to the other
Is it hiding a perilous journey
Or creating an invitation to a great adventure?
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