What is the cost of vulnerability, the cost of living without thought to self ( -protection or -deceit ), to stress and stretch my ego thin and imperceptible as wire pulled high above the cloud that crowds the net until it lays full burdened, flat upon the ground.
What cost to loose my soul like yellow kites unbound by human hands but simply, gladly, taking to the sky quite unconcerned like heat and wet to tea-bag, grasping nothing more than my free-willed collision with unknowing.
What cost to walk the wire and follow free the soul, to answer yes, to hear, to feel, to know.
the world is topsy turvy on me now and i am left to wonder if my center is askew or simply old and hardened, and seeing these new days with eyes unable or unwilling to adjust from my accustomed way of watching doing caring. asking soft if i will need to (want to) (or be able to) re-right (rewrite) myself , or if the universe will find her quiet balance now at last. or maybe we will both fly off our axes toward the twinkly stars.