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Sitting at the Edge of a Perfect Watercolor Sky at the Highest Place I could Find
Feet dangle
pointing to those below,
five thousand feet below.
The sheer edge
calls for a single slip,
a five-thousand-foot slip.
Bleeding cuts
dot my tired face,
looking down five thousand feet.
A pebble is thrown
all the way down.
It makes no sound.
Which mountain next?
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As hinted by the title when compared to the contents, this isn't a promotion of extreme thrill-seeking, but a criticism of it. Despite sitting in front of the most beautiful view you could imagine, the only focus in the height in numbers, and what's below, not above. For many, it becomes something lesser than the beauty and experience. Instead being seen as prestige or just another thing to brag about.