The Weight of Silence

Standing, with feet lodged in concrete, at the edge of a precipice- Syphon of air fallen away underneath to broken boulders, rocks of words gone by Not a moment left to lose to catch the infernally fleeting and flittering "why" The palms of the hands, being greased with kindness, are slippery flaps of butterfly wings too weak to reach out and grab the elusive - immovable feet and the trouble they bring A torrential avalanche breaks above head with spiraling white and pounds of emotion stretching on tiptoes to flee the impending shut in the mouth with an unending quiet Standing, with feet lodged in proverbial silence, of simply being too stiff or too tired to move No words to save what was once found as priceless packed under skyscraper pieces of moon in rock, debris, snow turned glass white and the infernally fleeting and flittering "why" this precipice grants us to do or to die.