a Haze to Exist

I live on the edge of a sharp blade, suspended on my toes in a moment of constant contact with choices.

If I stand pondering each side and what lies over here and what waits over there, I’ll never get anywhere.

So I choose those sides with the most options for escape, searching for a dodecagon, always landing on an octagon.

Forgive me for being bluntly put, but, without light you’d never know a haze to exist.

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