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.
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