I was at the edge of knowing everything about the Edge of Knowing —
I was that close!
But a precipice stood before me, or I before it, except after tea.
At that point, I stood up, because, curiously, I was precariously close to the edge;
I began experiencing what most people call pins & needles.
I have always thought this rather unfair to the needles,
which do most of the real work.
A pin holds things in place; a needle passes through.
Holdfast! Who decided pins came first?
At that point, which others called Handfast Point,
I dearly heldfast to the space nearest the edge,
because at the time, I feared the old chalk cliffs from Old Harry Rocks —
older, and much harrier now that they were before —
would break, as chalk always would,particularly when Martley schoolmasters forced the pupils to do lines on a slate.
I must've written "I'm not doing that again!" a hundred times in my journal, before both hand and pen seized up.
