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....