Edge
There is a precipice at the edge of sanity.
Cold, hard and sharp
it stretches out a panoramic view
of a brilliant abyss.
Dragons dance and demons whisper
sweet and warm.
Strings, then threads are cut
with a witless edge.
Weaving time without a hem.
The silence calls, beckoning,
inviting the comfort of
oblivion.
So simple to take the step-
a leap of bounds,
letting
go.
halfcnote 
Powerful!
Thanks, again. Its poetry week in class – write what you know, eh? 🙂
Great choice of topic: There is a precipice at the edge of sanity — And then the direction you take this. Like the physical form of this also! Very well written!
Thank you so much!