Saturday, June 2, 2018

The Tightrope Looms Above: A Precarious Point

It's frightening
The image keeps forming and evaporating at the same time
words reach to heights creating intricate facets
on an unknown page
constantly perfecting, dissecting
desperate for sustenance 
but starving
I'm not doing well
but ask
and I'll never tell
I'm fine
stringing hours to hours and days to decades
a form becoming
a hopeful endeavor
I'm failing
as bits of beautiful lines fall apart
and function growing futile
Those that wish you well
will sit in the wings
in the shadow of the crowd
hoping you succeed but knowing you'll fail
friends and lovers wil wish you the best
sitting in uncomfortable seats, fidgeting with doubt
while you on the tightrope question this precarious point

in the darkness there is no one
only God
and your voice in a whisper

You better believe, you better trust the only artist
that knows your final form
his way is the only way
but the soul questions this uncomfortable path

in the darkness on the tight rope
there is only you and God
and neither speak
pray for patience, confidence
strive long and proud
as you learn the steps
you were meant to walk
let them shout, doubt and talk
of your demise
on that space in the point of rapture
where the light is so brilliant
you're almost blind
its only you and God
and he's the only constant
on your side....

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