A Delicate Balance


The scene beforehand
Is one of perfect quietude.
Stillness everywhere resounds,
And over all a subtle light
Illuminates soft shapes.

Serenity prevails to such a fine degree
That movement cannot help but be
Refined and languid, completely free
Of any trace of hastiness, anxiety.

This state of grace too soon must pass,
And so it does, when purpose
Strides on stage with callous hands
Grown rough from rudely handling
Its better half, reflection.

And yet, without the two
Conjoined in mutual creation,
I fear there would be nothing here
To contemplate, appreciate.


©2016 Michael Fraley




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