The Tightrope

The wheels of life,

Full of pain, tears, and strife. 

Spinning like a web, patterns arrayed.

But the wrong pressure and it will be frayed.

The tight rope is gossamer and light.

Made for soft steps and not to catch flight.

Walk carefully, one foot before the next.

Watching before you, ready to catch.

Because you will fall dear, far, and long.

But brace yourself on bent back and don’t fall wrong.

Get up and dust off the muck, 

Climb the ladder to the strand and again try your luck.

We fall and we fall till the ground breaks our hands.

But if we have those around us, they’ll catch us when we land.

So walk the tightrope, the strand of life.

Take each step full of pain, worry, and strife.

And keep around you a gathered mass,

Of friendly faces, built to last.

Always forward and never behind,

Walk the rope surrounded by people with you in mind.

And if you do the rope will not fail,

You will walk with chin high at avail.

Step by step, toe by toe.

Walk that rope, and the answers you’ll know.