Pits

So close to the edge I stand
as remain stationary I must,
for what else is man to do
when all but standing is lost?

A wiser man once told me
to 'ware gazing too deeply' before we
And they have come, however, and taken from me
all else that I might have cared to see.

The gaping chasm beckons, calls,
begs that I cease standing,
and I wonder,
what light to the below might I bring?

A mystery as black as that black pit
as none've ever gone so deep
to where her siren song calls to me
when I'm deep within sleep.

Just one step forward, now,
to call myself the very first
because many men have wandered
yet none dare slake their thirst.

One ahead then
with none left behind
falling, falling, falling I fall
until all that I have and hold left

is the little I carry inside.