it is naught but the nuance of language that stands between me and the brink.I am chased and chasing words and implications; distinctions so fine as to be illusory, when this chimera is the best comfort to be hoped for.

and yet, i am comforted, by these faint and futile particularities. by the refusals transmuted to avowals. by a glance, by clasping, by tones and timbre.

and thus the dazzling dark is pierced.