at the edge

most of the moments these days

i am free of that terminal illness
the masses name, ‘healthy hope’!

these days i let my intuition and pangs

guide me when and where i catch
my crabs, creatures with protest
eventually yielding to my cravings!

at the edge neither the rules

written down by the modern
aristocrats nor noises the masses
spit out direct my directions!

from nothingness to nothingness

i slide with no care
like a kid on the slide
in the urban playground!

and at the edge of my ridge

with neither wants nor hope i stand
with readiness to exchange
the loin cloth, my present pair of pants
for my birthday suit, to let go my pant!
 
henry victor      04.05.2014