I'm standing at the edge of this mountain,
Where going back is not an option,
And there's no ground beneath my feet at the next step forward,
All I can do from here is fly,
Or fall, a voice of my own says silently.
And in that moment of I hear whispers,
That tell me to hold the ground,
Because maybe I shouldn't fly,
Or fall for that matter,
Maybe I should just stay,
Where I am,
At the edge of the mountain.