I stand out to the edge unknown
Whether water below is making it time
And my step per chance some precipitator
For the centenial shelf to recede again.
If it gave, my ghostly purpose would wonder
What winds had compelled me this route
In unbeknownst conspiracy
With the salty forces of continental erasure?
Or has it a crime and its punishment in one fall
Counterbalancing premature verticalization
Within a single destination for the early rockfall
And the tardy interloper, simply too heavy?
All ends are ultimately indifferent to themselves
One end will not be defied by its own reason;
On this edge unknown, chance has let us hold,
But in the open horizon ahead, made uncertain between the winds of congruity and the unbound freedom to fall.
January 2020
A beach State 