Close To The Edge

How can we come so close, on so many occasions, permanently on some dangerous periphery of things, and yet not fall off? Gravity doesn't pull so hard, after all. There is some weight on shoulders. There is her force that also pulls down, and yet we stand up, we walk tall, well, as tall as we can walk, and we dabble with dark magic on the fringes.

Perhaps it is to feel far brighter and more alive than to reside many moons from here, safely tucked away in some imaginary forcefield, held in by lies, and rules, and secret dictatorships. Close to the edge, and perhaps you will fall off, but that feeling of falling, I imagine, also to be far greater than the safety that isn't even a reality.