The edge is sharp, 

Near and raw

Standing at the beginning of the end of the world,

A gaping hole at my feet, 

taunting,

Daring me

To take a chance, 

Step off and fly,

Or die trying 

The wind brings the smell of change,

Like spring over the mountains, fresh on the breeze, 

Life and new growth about to begin

And all I have to do is cross the threshold,

 walk over the precipice

Become