All I can do is take you to the edge
And throw a belvedere
Out on the void, fenced in with cabled steel,
So there is nothing which you need to fear –
As fear you will,
Like somebody marooned on a rock ledge.
This is what builders do: compose a space
For you to live inside
And be in body. They can give no more
Than wood or concrete, stone or brick provide.
All else they ignore,
Except to make a view out of a place.
What if the view were merely space? What if
Odd atmospheric freaks –
Stray clouds, perhaps a viscous film of mist –
Were all that filled it? Floating, the snow peaks
Barely exist –
Far less than we do, grounded in this cliff.
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