There is a wisdom on the edge
as I recommit to my pledge—
striving to always remain true
in everything that I now do.
Trusting in the pull of these lines,
how each of them slowly refines
these truths I now pen then say,
as I once more continue on my way.
Since I still walk this solitary path
in the bloodied steps of Sexton and Plath,
hiking deeper into the brambles,
in a poetic quest which still rambles.
Searching for what remains most true,
I recite my vow to again start anew—
a quest to dive these depths inside
where those faithful muses now abide.
Still living eternally on the brink,
in this lonely realm of authentic ink—
where margins meet upon a fading page,
leaving me left longing for another age.