The Edge

You’ll find me, dancing Through the cycle of the seasons,Between the salt-laced fold of oceansAt the edge of Reason’s grip  Where in the gentle darkness;Beside the flames licking the firewood A whisper grows, a yearning turnsThe blood to honeyed-wine Then I’ll seek the giddy silenceThat spikes the music, with its notesOf melting snow, beggingFor the burnt touchContinue reading “The Edge”