Precipice

For want to wake I’m standing torn

On this great precipice of unrest

As though on a cliff of equal fervor

That never pauses to hear th’murmur

Of the ever-winding ridge

Housing rivers of winding water

Yet instead drops high and sheer

W’thought the thought of life a’near.

Even knowing I am spared

Seeing the same dawn of a different morn

I know this rest was anything but,

For having been mired in the mares.

And I am grateful to my dreams

Though often I’ve despaired

Of what certain of them mean.

Though it’s perhaps no thing atall

But to wake I’ll abandon them

Knowing little of how they seamt

Awaking to another life; undreamt

Unfelt, unheard, and desperately untoward

I’ll wake to sleep again,

Where for wanting to wake, I shall be torn.