Tight Rope

Above the fires of friendly bridges burning,

Shines the bright high wire like a life line turning,

The shadow which walks upon it,

To an unnecessary silhouette,

Of heroism and daredevilry.

 

The awed crowd sometimes wonder why,

He made the choice to walk in the sky,

Was it for the Icarus rush,

Or just to escape the gravitous crush,

Of everyday earthliness?

 

They never hear the lonely sound,

Of a man cursed never to walk the ground,

Of his father’s other sons,

The prosaic, lucky, ordinary ones,

Who are blessed to never look up.

 

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