A Voice From The Edge Poem by Nicanor P. Tiosen

Where are you, friends of my youth -
Why have you forsaken me?
Isn't that through thick and thin
You vowed, with me you'll stay?

Ah! Through good times, I traveled
Alone to places - far, uncharted;
Not caring for what lies beyond
Of man and might, unafraid.

Wantonly, I explored the meadows
Sipping nectar, sniffing scents;
Not discerning they were poison
Draining life of vim and strength.

With blurring vision, I sauntered on
Aimlessly heading for the cliff;
Were it not for God's loving arms
Would have fallen - cold and stiff.

Now, looking down the gaping ravine
Holding on to matted twigs;
Could not help feeling tired, but sober -
A repentant voice from the edge.