Precipice

In sickness come dreams so lucid posing questions pointing the way to answers only half offered unveling a new mist a fresh wrist for a wrapping and i feel a sapping on the back of my neck to ponder who i am that maybe i should start afresh with eyes of the other and wonder yes wonder how they see because maybe my world is not as self manifest as i would have it be and you would give me the possibility that there is more certainty in you as to my true nature than i could ever imagine whereupon this precipice the decadence of your highest cliffs whence suddenly i might see that i am indeed the unfathomable beauty of which you speak.