Standing On The Brink Poem by RoseAnn V. Shawiak

A glimmer of light, then darkness fills the night,
flying on wings of prayer, to fulfill it's destiny,
it knows not where.

A courtship of evening is filled with tiny stars,
sparkling - beckoning - all to contemplate the
heavenly skies.

Nothing to stop this skyward gaze - finding memories
sitting in a haze.

Non-development stalks the precious mind of good,
leaving with it, an element of doubt as to it's
existence.

Finding no one - going no where - standing always on
the brink, awaiting the time it too may fall in.

Dancing lightly, lithe steps taken, screaming fills
the air as man again is forsaken.

Caught by the unholy grip of Satan's death, man is dying.