It was never irrational fearing the edge
of the world if you thought it was flat.
On the basis it couldn't continue for ever
you'd tumble through space until 'splat'.

But why then do poets who should know much better
still fear the right edge of the page ?
Their lines now continually jump to the left
as if they're unable to gauge

how far they dare go away from the pack
till timidity forces them back.
Without the assurance of rythym and rhyme
it's just backward steps all the time.