The Precipice of the Unknown

I stand on the steep precipice of The Unknown, Clouds, yonder, like cotton blossoms, are sown and grown; Hills, like gray ghosts of the dead, stand drab, dull and dim, Where's heaven? Where's hell? Reply seems sublime grim-whim...! Sky seems, somewhere white, somewhere blue, somewhere coal-black, Bottomless cumulonimbus of clouds crack-pack; Terrifying, horrifying, scenes bleak in peak, Dream streams seem to flow like tears from eyes always leak...! Some phantom seems crossing one steep from another, Bridged with broken bamboo, surrounded by smother; Secret-filled valleys loudly laugh - none knows what's there, Hallows of heaven and hell-fires, fill the air...! Dusk falls; gloom encircles; will I fall from the cliff? Will angels hold me? Or devils clasp tight and stiff? Will peace-filled heaven-home be my portion and cup? Or from horror-hovering hell, will I soups sup? Some thin, lean rays from the east, yet, is slightly seen, If widens, this would surely, the gloominess clean; Whatever beyond the horizons, will light-up, My soul will soar with all souls; glowingly gleam-up...! 27 January 2022