Two people stand at the edge of something vast, here called "the precipice of time," and are shoved over by unseen hands. The poem never says who or what is doing the pushing, which makes the fall feel like something no one could have prevented. Time simply carries them along.
What matters most to the speaker is the moment mid-fall when their eyes meet. It seems to last only "a small simple second," yet the speaker says they "had frozen," as if the look stretched out and held them in place. From there the speaker clings to a hope: that the two of them might still be close as they go down.
The mood is quiet and tender, with an undercurrent of fear. The fall is toward "darkened stillness," so the ending is uncertain. But the poem puts its weight on connection rather than loss. Even when everything is slipping away, the speaker finds comfort in having someone to fall beside.