Can't Fall

I walk a thin line with two gaping maws on each side.

It would be a relief to fall off.

Just slide down one of those dark throats, slowly enveloped then dissolved.

Me would flee, only us would exist. Melded, intertwined, together.

If I chose, I might rest easier. Undisturbed by churning thoughts and wanton wanderings. I would have a home, a place where acceptance was total and complete.

But, choosing feels wrong. Neither choice is right.

Look at your cold mercy, your rigid comfort. You would have me forget. You want me to abandon and refuse to understand.

I can't. I see me there, my past, present and future. Not all of it, but too much to pretend it doesn't exist. My rock solid faith has fissures, and doubt escapes like steam. Not enough doubt to turn around, but it's there.

Then there's you.

You claim freedom. No more bondage, just existence and experience.

Kick back, relax and enjoy the ride.

But who's driving? Where are we going? Is there a map, a guidebook, any indication that somebody has a plan?

Nah, we would make it up as we go.

That doesn't work for me.

So, I'm back to balancing. One foot in front of the other, arms straight to the side. Slowly, stepping, then checking, stepping, then checking, trying not to fall.

Trying to stay on that narrow path.


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