His toes curled slightly over the edge.
Teetering close to the wide open expanse, dropping off into vastness that he couldn’t even measure.
Questioning whether he would fly or fall – how could he be sure?
The sun rose high, shining its spot light down on him to show him where he was.
But he only saw his shadow and felt its heat.
Missing the light.
Missing the view.
Missing the point that in his contemplation of flying or falling he had neglected to see the beauty in where he already was.
Standing on a mountain top.