A tightrope suspended over darkness.
Perhaps you stand six inches above a cushioned floor,
Perhaps you waiver up beyond the clouds,
With harsh and jagged rocks waiting down below.
The risk is why your past seems so inviting,
Beckoning you home with a sure and warm embrace,
Where waits a list you know so well.
Tomorrow is a lion poised to strike.
A surging wave crashing on the shore.
A race that’s still to run.
The triumph or tragedy is still yours to claim,
Your fate lies unresolved ahead.
Home is yesterday,
Settled and owned.
The present waits at your front door,
Tomorrow is every possibility beyond.
Will you stay home and ask what could have been?
Will you hide away, assured and safe?
No hurt or failure lurks on such familiar ground,
All thoughts distracted by a stream of shows you’ve seen before.
Or could you be so brave to head out and meet that storm?