On the Edge of Nothing

We live perched on the edge of nothing,
a void yawning beneath each footstep.
Life is the slight tremble before the plunge.
We clasp meaning as if it were a lifeline —
yet all meaning slips through our hands
like smoke.

We ask: Why? Why this grief, this breath, this tear?
We hope for light beyond the cage of bones.
But some nights I think: the light is a lie.
A lullaby we croon to ourselves
while the darkness listens.

Maybe meaning was never meant for us.
Maybe we are fragments in a cosmos that does not care.
Perhaps the only answer is silence—
and the courage to stand empty, unafraid.