Like a Tree at the Edge of a Cliff

I wanted to run,
to run towards the edge of tomorrow,
and hang myself

like a tree hung from
the edge of a cliff
with its roots
gripped to rocks and dirt

falling bit by bit

yet suspended
by a thread of faith.

I wanted to run,
to run towards the precipice of the future,
and levitate

Until I found equilibrium.
Until I found equilibrium,

In the present me.

...

But I was not a tree,
I was not a tree born on the edge of tomorrow.
I was merely the present me

Who kept falling bit by bit

like grains on sand
In an hourglass

Falling bit by bit

Just like the present me

Already suspended in equilibrium
by a thread of faith

yet still falling bit by bit

to create the past me.