Falling off the edge of the world,
leaving the blue edge and tumbling
into an unknown abyss–what’s
been the worry of history all
these smooth years since?
The edge still moves with us, and
finds new boundaries to hold us within.
I can count on the low and high tides
how things will go next.
Rising moons also show the
effects of constant drifting and slipping.
This view of a golden sinking evening
is always replenished at the horizon.
Around the moving edge, we all keep
watch, keep the fear at bay. Besides,
there is that other world
toward which we are drifting.