Hanging By a Thread

Beneath fate's shadowed edge, I take my stand, A moment granted by design's own hand. The blade above me poised, a guillotine, My neck upon the board, awaiting fall. While others drift through life's unchallenged stream, Letting time pass without a second thought, I cannot share their luxury of ease. If days were numbered, hours slipping by, Would actions shift to meet the fleeting time? Would calls be made, connections sought anew, Or would desires still command the will? At dawn's first light, I sacrifice and strive, Pushing this vessel to its utmost brink. In places dark, where trust and love may fail, I question if this path is what I've earned. Do I deserve respect, fidelity, Or is this trial the portion I must bear? Yet onward, toward a self none can replace, I journey, trusting what's ordained will come, And what is not will fade along the way.