The edge

They live on the edge:
In the place where pregnancy is no longer miraculous,
Where ambitions are misplaced, where jobless is the son of a loveless affair,
Where offspring is lovingly raised by unthinking herds – no disputing the natural order here.

If you will protest: Down with light!
They’re hooded in enlightenment, avoiding darkness at all cost.
The way things are – they gave themselves away, walking as they went.
They ran out of places to grow, communities to sow and blame it on thievery.

And now, inhabiting the edge, they’re trapped between
The past so proudly own and royalty renounced to monarchies from foreign lands.
Their infinity a loop for their brains washed clean, glued to the sight of the chartered path,
They don’t see the black abyss – their learned fear is powerful: shove them over the edge, return them to themselves!

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