HIGH WIRE

It is a precarious balance, really,
more an exercise in tottering and hearing
than in standing still.
Some prefer stasis, others,
I included, find that leads inevitably
to a loss of energy, to an entropy
from which it is difficult to escape.
I don’t walk along the edge
of the precipice, but I do. peer over,
amazed at what lies below
that I hope never to see up close.
Is a precarious balance, but
one that can be maintained
if you just close your eyes,
and sense what actually lies
around and beneath you.

FOREVER, ALMOST

It is a large boulder in the middle of a rutted path. That path leads nowhere in particular. It comes to an end at the edge of what appears to be a dense forest. Several trees are posted with “Do Not Trespass” signs, long faded until you must stare to make out the words. The forest is foreboding, so it is not clear if anyone would willingly enter. Few ever come down the path. Fewer still make it to its end. The large boulder has been here for centuries. It stares up at the sky, in amazement.