Chasing through them all-
not by choice but sheer need-
rings, swings, cradles unsteady
An ease wrought in
by years of surviving
the death waiting around the corner
Going through them all-
days, years, a lifetime-
moments cast aside unlived
as if some molt unwanted
Going forth and forward
and further from now as if
were life's only worth
An acrobat, a trapezist
or just about any
in the circus of life
One has a net waiting
in case a step's missed
Other just need survive
falling prey to the mind
waiting to pounce
any moment that is
whiled away unconscious
No applause to finish.
Audience just as keen
as a fly on a mirror
admiring itself.
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