Straddler

The folly of your great constern.
About the every twist and turn.

Made you subject to the ride.
Raw from thorns in your side.

And lonely from a deep, obsess,
Upon a shallow self, no less.

It became humor, it became jest.
It was help without request.

It was a thought that brought resolve.
A means to make the dread dissolve.

A shift from center to a vessel.
A truce from the incessant wrestle.

To embrace the twists and turns.
Leaning toward the pricks and burns.

You shifted who you do this for.
Let go of owning what’s in store.

For a moment, for a while.
You let it all with a smile.

But soon there did come a time.
A moment abrupting this rhyme.

It was a call, was a demand.
To assert, to take command.

To suspend the come what may.
To occupy, to seize the day.

To let go of victimhood.
To bend the moment with a would.

To take what time you would deed.
And satiate your long-held need.

Your moment struck, what a gift!
It called for another shift.

But can you turn, can you change?
On a dime do rearrange?

To sus-pend nature for a minute?
To hold it back beyond the limits?

To think in terms of time and space?
To concentrate absent of grace?

With ferocity and control,
Could duality be made whole?

Could you allow and hold on both?
The two, as one, of faith and troth?

This was the call the path demands,
Upon a maker of commands.

Ye, the straddler of a fence.
Between a mirth and vehemence.

“I think I could, but what’s more,
I feel this is what I’m here for.”