Some days are tentative.
They hang in
The uncertain world
Of anticipation.
Between happiness
And despair,
Between hope
And resignation,
Between light and darkness
They stretch like a wide
Trampoline,
Over the expanse of which
I move from
One corner to the other,
Like an amateur acrobat
Not knowing
Which corner
Will my soul loose
A scared grip over the bamboo
And where I will
Fall by the end of the show,
Will it be a happy corner of love
Or dark, solitary corner
Of scorn, to which I will descend
As the applause rises
And the breath stops
Right there
Just for a second..
It is the final fall that I can bear,
It is the tentative anticipation
That kills me.
They hang in
The uncertain world
Of anticipation.
Between happiness
And despair,
Between hope
And resignation,
Between light and darkness
They stretch like a wide
Trampoline,
Over the expanse of which
I move from
One corner to the other,
Like an amateur acrobat
Not knowing
Which corner
Will my soul loose
A scared grip over the bamboo
And where I will
Fall by the end of the show,
Will it be a happy corner of love
Or dark, solitary corner
Of scorn, to which I will descend
As the applause rises
And the breath stops
Right there
Just for a second..
It is the final fall that I can bear,
It is the tentative anticipation
That kills me.
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