We've grown up in that fragile space between hope and disaster, waiting for the balance to tip and plunge us into the abyss.. We spend our days tense and frightened, waiting to be tipped over the edge. And it never happens. We come closer and closer every day, every second and the tension twists our souls ever tighter, but we do not fall off. Even when we can see the screaming pit below us, we do not fall off.

Therein lies the madness, the pain of our society. Some of us find hope in clinging to the edge. Others cannot bear the madness and cut through whatever may bind them to the wall, leaping into the pit, leaving chaos in their wake. Those who choose to stay, clutching tattered shards of Pandora's gift, seek desperately for the will to live. Seeking for some bond, emotional or otherwise to pull them from the edge, even so much as an inch. Some find salvation in this, others find their feet are resting on nothing but vapor from the maelstrom. Many find both.

There are those who determine to do more than cling, but to crawl back through the force of their own will, dependent on no one's strength but their own. Thus do we, here on the edge of the end of the world, find away to survive one more day knowing it may never be enough.

JK
5/2/92

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