What if rooted in its routine —
its false facade of numbing comfort and safety
— is the invitation to a
most fulfilling existence imaginable?
Do I exult in this moment,
jump, run, engage, extend, embrace and
let trust and truth
trump the fear of falling,
the risk of being mistaken,
the chance that all effort is for naught?
Or do I sit on the sidelines,
letting the fiery sizzle of my being fizzle
into a tepid temperature while
others join together,
re-draw the face of hope and revel
in the unfolding moment of metamorphosis?