Stepping to the Edge, a poem by Not All Who Wander Are Lost at Spillwords.com

Stepping to the Edge

Stepping to the Edge

written by: Not All Who Wander Are Lost

 

With quickening pulse
And trembling hands
I leave the shelter of my corner
And step to the edge
The ghosts of my memories
The messy scraps of my past
The rocky remnants of regret
Have faded at last
Though still I see clearly
With no rose colored glow
I have conquered my demons
I finally know
Though the future is ambiguous and vague
The world is my oyster
I choose my fate.

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