Tightrope

I am walking on a razor wire
high up in the air.

Below and to my right
are raging flames and acid rains,
heaving earth and roaring floods,
clouds of dust and toxic haze.

Below and to my left
there is an empty void,
creeping darkness, all-consuming,
purged of light and joy.

But straight ahead is quiet balance
threading through it all.
I take a breath, then take a step,
and pray that I don’t fall.