Casa Muerte

On the Edge

On the precipice he stands, his soul laid bare, Dark whispers swirling on the haunted air. His shattered heart trembles in his hands, As the abyss before him makes its demands.

"Let me fall," his voice a threadbare plea, "Into oblivion, set my spirit free." The earth gives way as he steps toward fate, His heart now pounding, the plunge comes too late.

The wind rushes past as he rapidly descends, No time for regrets, his breathless life suspends. But then comes a miracle, a hand appears, Banishing the darkness, dissolving all his fears.

This hand of compassion, of unending grace, Reaches into the shadows of that desolate place. Grasping his fingers in its gentle hold, More loving than anything his life has told.

He clings to this hand, his fingers now interlaced,

As the world falls away, all discord erased. Closing his eyes, he releases the pain, Trusting this hand will make him whole again.

It lifts him up into redemptive light, Dispelling the darkness, ending the night. Surrounded by grace, he finds true peace at last, The demons of old now shadows of the past.

For this saving hand, in his hour of need, Has pulled him back from the abyss's greed. A beacon of hope, his compass is set, On the foundation of love, his life's debt.

-by db

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Art By TheAiCollective.art