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.

Change.

What cost
to walk the wire and follow free the soul,
to answer yes, to hear, to feel, to know.

c. Pamela Goode