My heart feels like a fist pounding a wall
over and over, but it does not break.
It speed up, urgently as my head,
oh, how my head spins
as I stand on the edge of a cliff.
The water below is filled thunder.
The trees behind are filled with fire,
but the air is still, as if to wait my decision
whether to jump or not.
I am waiting for a sign and as I look up
I can see my dreams hovering there;
all that I love
dangling by a thread.
If that thread breaks,
do I turn back into the flames that torture,
Or do I plunge after my dreams into the storm below
And pray for peace?