Footsteps Made of Spears

Balancing on ice. It's getting thinner here, and I'm getting heavier. Putting on weight as I try and make it across this... whatever it is I'm on. I can't see land any more - that is, if this can't be described as land. I don't think it is, but I don't think there's water under this ever thinning ice either. I can't see what it is, but that's exactly it. I think there IS nothing beneath me, just a forever, an abyss of forever that this beginning-to-crack ice is keeping me back from. Every step forward becomes slower, more uncertain, and my tread becomes heavier, and the ice, oh, it's paper thin now, and my footsteps are made of spears.