Lonely cliff

I'm standing aloft
With wind in my hair,
I wait for the fall,
But it doesn't come.
Everything is for me
To be done I suggest.
I'm standing alone,
This vacant and cold
Belt of clear air around
My enstoning self.
I'm free and I'm locked,
Impenetrable,
The emptiness I
Pour out of the brims
Of the self, of the belt,
And over the edge -
And a cascade there comes!
Rushes a waterfall!
Down it thunders, it roars!
Down from over the edge
Of this rocky cliff
Whereupon I stand stiff
With wind in my hair,
And only I stare
At a far distant light
That leads me to fight -
Small flickering red
For miles ahead.
Through this my cold belt
Its heat is but felt,
Its colour is warm
In this black-white form
Of this land deathly cold -
It's alive, though so old.
And I couldn't reach.
Fly? No bird to teach,
Run? No deer to show,
Bridge? No tree to grow,
Swim? No fish around,
By the wind I am bound -
I've no limb to move,
Other strength though to prove -
In my heart I am stirred,
To the light never blurred
I draw and I'm drawn.
In this moment I'm born.