The Pledge On The Edge Poem by David Taylor

I stand on the edge
of what seems a deep abyss,
with your gentle rhythmic sound
that I hold to my inmost breast
and quietly in my mind I say
' I will cleave to you come what may'.
You take flight with such subtle sound
as by this thought you are unbound.
You take me by the hand,
not falling we soar into another land
pure radiant light and stillness
all around abounds.

Left standing on the edge
a mind of discontent
and body straight not bent.
Our journey halts in just being
with sure and certain knowing
not separate from I, no different
as much as any difference
could give rise to an experience.
The knowing did not say, just knew
there is no death or birth,
no essence that returns to dusty earth.

And he left standing on the edge,
the one that made a pledge.
He will do as he must
until life's force is fully spent
and the mortal body returns to dust.
just as, of course, it must.

Returning to the mortal mind
waiting at the edge of that abyss
it says it is not my domain,
in this mind it has no name.
Live where you will
in my world of discursive thoughts
or leave me far behind,
wed to that gentle rhythmic sound
that beats in regions where
this mind of mine just is not found
where the heart it has its home
but this mind, it cannot go.