Always on the verge
Always on the edge of my fantastical perception
Of my humanly reflection

Always looking over the side
Across into the country side
Of my mind’s eternal projection
Of my soul’s human imperfection

Always teetering on a wire
The wire that I must walk with wisdom
Looking down to leaping flames
Drips of my sweat falling to meet them

Years go by, the wire gets tighter
Loosens
Blisters
Heartbeats and scissors

Generations go by and some ask why
The mistakes of the past we insure to repeat them

Dancing on the line that separates me from them
Rejoicing in my favor of Nature’s Great Plan
Humble in my arrogance and ironic in my pen
Contradictory to impressions
Telling all where I have been

Laughing

Loving

Teetering again.

 
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