Lo, that the universe of the mind of mankind hangs precarious on a razor’s edge.
Like a child
Breathing in like believing in breathing out after inconceivable moments pass.
Like its birth
The exaltation of inhalation through lungs once flooded now free
Becoming dirt and water plants devour what is left of them
Eternal ecstasy of pain productive for the love of its mother
Self and others, enemies, lovers sneaking glances at the gulf beyond their single blade.