If you knew you were about
To step off the cliff of the known
To slip from the safety of the familiar
Into the womb of darkness
that has no names
Would you still cross that threshold
With confident steps
Or hasten back to the old small house 
that lies tight and cramped
Like an old snake skin around you?

The call of the abyss
Looms like a reapers shadow
And looks annihilating
From the telescope of the mind
But there secret treasures 
Are sewn in the fabric of your skin.
To cross that line
Sometimes we have to trip and fall
Lose ourselves like mist at dawn
Or take the hand of a friend
As we enter the uncharted realms.

What happens there is hard to say
Layers of silt are removed
Our palette gets washed away
And the house of familiarity
Feels hauntingly different
Roles and routines no longer fit
As we are cast like spawn
Into the oceans mouth

Or like light hurled in a starless sky
Where there is nothing to do but
Yield to the tug of waves
Trust the path that takes us to the edge 
To the place where we can break open
And discover ourselves anew.

~Mark Coleman