Precipice

Steep, sharp, split, and, as an abandoned architecture, weak How I managed to get to its top, I truly don't know. Fear, frustration, angst, awe, and helplessness were at their peak. Over the sea beneath the cliffs, worn-out yachts slowly row. On whom should I put my faith at this hour of nullity? What a fool am I who could go up and couldn't come down? Amidst tensions and terrors, thrills find no utility. In the circus of existence, have I become a clown? A tinge of pain and despair mingles with my loneliness. Avalanches of aches fill and drill my physique and psyche. I pray to Neptune, Najm, and Xama; crawl down in coolness. Though well-drowned and dead in dread, I touch the fringes of Nike. Each precipice venture is one's inner soul's exploration. Midst the loss of self, there's divine identification.