Disclaimer: The Edge is not my creation; it is the childling of Paul Stewart and Chris Riddell.
Falling-
From Riverise, the soul of all,
Down carolling 'tween the Deepwood trees,
I'm suffocating in the darkness,
Dankness,
Empty, but full,
Lively, teaming with the spiral,
Of that twisted, perfect life,
Through twilight realms,
I gladly sail,
Breathing sighs of forever,
Ever,
Never,
Changing,
Now below me,
The thick, icky sludge of the Mire,
The oozing, squelching, mass,
Of all and every sinking body,
Undertown,
With its enterprise and industry,
Business, lies and treachery,
The docks with their beauteous sky-ships,
Lying safe in soft wooden arms,
I look up,
See Sanctaphrax,
So scholarly,
Floating as noble beacon in the sky,
So much knowledge,
So much thought,
So many secrets to escape,
The Stone Gardens hover below me now,
Boulders shifting silently,
No more than a whisper,
I can hear the emptiness,
Taste the stench of nothingness,
I am over the edge,
The helm of the world is behind me,
Descent,
Below,
Below,
Calm,
Quiet,
Nothing,
Oh Gloamglozer! I am at peace…
For now I can fall.