Lives
His life is a swirl, a vortex
Sometimes a swift smooth orbit, sometimes a furious maelstrom
Carrying him round in a scream
Not knowing what is at the centre, whether to escape or plunge
Unable to do either
Hers is a mountain
Slow built over eons, mixed of settled sediment uplifted and fiery magma
Now sitting immovable under chill, brittle sky
Bright in its mastery of the land
And slowly eroding
Mine is an iceberg
Calved off, rejected by the glacier it knew and grew with
Bobbing in new waters; warmer waters
The ice is melting, but there is something inside:
What will remain when temperate and tropical heat have revealed it?
Yours is a tightrope, a network
You are forced to walk it by Time,
Trying to keep balance, not to fall left or right
Trying to choose a safe path, along strands strong enough to support you
Trying to keep focus, and not panic
And what of his, and hers, and theirs, and theirs?
Each life is itself; all different, all intense, all personal
We live Inside our life, but Outside too
How then does any of us cope?