Outside Edge

When first I ran the path of blades
I reveled in the comforts of the inside edge;
The safety of that sweeter inner blade
That held the burden central, stable between my feet.

When crouched down low, calling forth the flight
If too far forward my courage swung me out
The stern guardian steel, waiting there free
Would swing into place, and balance up the load.

But leaning on the edge that waits there outside
Transfixes all the burden on the guardian foot.
The free one swings ignorant there on the wrong side
Of the burden’s fall to the deep, or rise with the tide.

So I thought as I scrambled my pursuit
Down the vast empty corridors of impatient flight.
I carved there uniform the lone brute force line
That spelt out my power, my momentum’s endless rise.

A straight line is the least of the kinesthetic joys
Its honest face hides no mysteries to ponder.
Traced out artless, its rhythms repeating
It inspires what already bleak to become now sterile.

But to step on the edge where no guard awaits
Gifts all the joys of the unstable state.
Poised on a point, I reach out with my hand
Trace the hidden face that shows my foot where to land.

To know both edges marries the power to the form
The inside that thrusts the fury to rule the very small;
The outer the artist, who trusts in the Greatest All
Courage grants their places: the bifurcation switch.

Until at last I know rhymes built of two feet
A mermaid fair, churning left, now twisting right
Drummer, two sticks a-blur, blasting out a beat
Or a firebird above, thrashing out its flight.

To rely on my strength, Will; on what I find inside
To accept most humbly that granted from Outside
I find twin streaks on the canvas of my life
Cut not of blades, but of the tears of Grace.