The Edge of the World

.

Teetering on a tightrope
Hanging on a shelf
Grasp with frozen fingertips
While the moon hangs itself

Reality is become fiction
And fiction doesn’t exist
Solid ground falls away
Leaving space in its place

Heads spin on shoulders
Wi(l)de-eyed at far-off visions
Sense-less dreams of peace
On our bleeding earth

.

©Denise G Allen, 23 March 2013 03:54