the balancing act

Tip-toe after tip-toe I inch myself closer toward the end. The end of what — don’t know. This rope seems endless. Once my right arm tires from juggling these things with its mate, tiresome drives the best of them both. A break would be enough — so long as it does not affect my feat of feeting toward to the end. Uh — noticing my shoe’s untied — need to stop everything, take a breather, double-knot it and get back to juggling, tip-toeing, focusing, and fading toward the end. The end seems timeless, yet time is the only equity pulling me toward it. So difficult it seems — tossing around the important things in life, colored and tainted with the not-so-important — Onward I walk, around and around they spin…

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