The Rope...

With hands held at side, I took a deep breath

Eyes straight ahead, I took a small step.

The tightrope beneath, eternal space up above

No walls, no cushion, not a walk for the faint.

The rope creaked and quivered, my arms lifted slightly

There were drops on my forehead, and my jaw began to tense.

Yet with firm resolution, and fear in my heart

I stepped gently forward with, what some, would call courage.

Eyes peering forward, ears straining for sound

With each balanced step the darkness seemed to grow.

It grew and began to consume what rays of hope there were

It pushed from all around, a laugh of hate I heard.

The snarls of wolves grew strong in my ears

I cried out in pain as they tore at my flesh.

Fear and despair grew deeper and darker

My eyes shifted down and my arms swung for balance.

Where was I now? What hope was there?

What had I done? Would I ever regain control?

My thoughts flew to light, my eyes lifted up

One ray, one spark. It was there, it remained.

As something cold crept up behind I could not see my end

But with gaze fixed I slowly stood, I was not finished yet.

The icy fingers I peeled off, they dropped with a hiss and a curse

And firmly I walked on again, my foot upon the rope.