Clinging to the edges
of a moving platform
that just refuses
a desperate diplomacy
Losing a grip I may have never once had

Retracing my steps
into familiar footpaths.
I'm constantly letting go
and always holding on.
Maintaining affection through the graze of rope.

Stepping onto my stage
of curtain call acceptance,
A grand finale,
a bittersweet sendoff.
Trepidation by the kick of a stool.

Salvation at the forfeiture of stability.

Gravity my only influence,
the one in which I'll always believe.