Wistful Melancholia...

Melancholy is the edge I teeter
Bittersweet is what I breathe
My attempt to feel happiness
Upon my return
Is failed
I long to suffer
That cramped flight back again
Just to be
In that Holy Space
I wobble this rope of desire
Resolute to remain
​On my Middle Way
Where neither sorrow
Nor ecstasy bind me
There are no edges
And bittersweet is just fine