We danced on edges, sharp and thin,
Ignoring warnings deep within.
Chased every thrill, dismissed the cost,
And counted freedom, not what’s lost.
We laughed at cliffs we couldn’t see,
Said, “Let it be what it will be.”
We struck the match and watched it glow,
Too blind to see the burn below.
We traded wisdom for a dare,
Tore down the truths too hard to bear.
Took every path that shone with gold,
And left behind the quiet old.
We spoke too fast, we thought too late,
Let pride and impulse forge our fate.
What once was choice became a chain—
A fleeting joy, a lasting pain.
Now echoes haunt the roads we burned,
And scars remind of lessons learned.
Yet still, within the ash and dust,
A wiser self begins to trust.
For reckless hearts may crash and fall,
But even then, they still recall—
That every fall, though harsh and steep,
Can sow the ground where roots run deep.
So let the past be marked and known,
Not as regret, but how we’ve grown.
For every reckless step we take,
Can lead to truth, if we awake.
MARYANN BOSAH 