Each instant, a branching splitting web of possibility
Each moment possibilities stretch like arms grasping and holding
Streaming away until a mist of uncertainty conceals the ledges in which they so eagerly grasp upon
A plethora of conclusion fogged by incurable myopia

Soon the trunk that marked the conception of branching decisions is dim from distance
No retracing, instead forced forward by the impenetrable thorns of time – I continue
The inky abyss below looms with tantalizing horror
I’m reminded of the small stubble that would plunge me down

Peering above the ledge I hang on, I choose another
Half hidden by fog the ledge protrudes promising fortune a meter above my head
I clench my fingers around the dusky, dirty-old oak ledge
As I pull my second hand to clasp onto the board it creaks

The board’s perjury of a drowned promise comes to fruition when the mist clears
The board hangs loosely in the air, held up by emptiness
In an instant it is sucked down by life’s gravity
My arms wave to take hold of any of life’s redeemers, but instead I fall
I land one ledge from the void, if the ledge is not more rightfully called a notch

As the tips of my fingers grip onto the slender platform I can’t help but stare down
I can touch the black that absorbs my vision with loss
My eyes convulse upward and I am reminded how far I fell

My heart sinks, for a second I’m afraid it will fall into the chasm
My hope fleas my body in its selfish attempt at self-savior, but instead my hope spills into the void
Gone forever

There are no arms
No webs springing upward introducing the path to virtue and happiness
Instead one singular arm plunges down seeking something to grasp upon, but never finding solace
I have one decision
The next ledge is up a hundred meters

My fingers quiver and ache
The end of the arm is now gone in the thick color of the void
In an instant every moment pulses through my head, ages of climbing for what

The sickly-sweet, joyous-emptiness of being atop a mountain
The instant pleasure of accomplishment followed by “what’s next?”
The rage my mind presented at the realization that the trip was better than the destination
Now in memory that rage melts to sadness
Sadness for not realizing the climbing is more fulfilling than the climax
That drags my brain to countless memories of the struggle of climbing, and the pain

Now

Now, all I want is to climb – but – I can’t
My heart pleads with my mind to change its verdict, but to no avail
My fingers fight for every second to stay firmly on the ledge

I feel the failure as if an instant turned into a full moment – a pause
My fingers straighten – I slip

I fall

My arms and legs outstretched pleading to grasp onto anything, even thicker emptiness
My eyes fill with salty acceptance
One single tear leaves my face and falls twice as fast into death
The tear makes a very slight – hiss, and it is no more
I close my eyes – my last thought is of freedom

And I am no more