The wind is weak, yet
there are leaves swirling
before my feet, often
it goes that way for me

What I don't hold, is blowing
away and could fall into pieces
so I jump back and forth
with long arms like a juggler

Should I let everything
happen and just watch
with barbed wire
around my thoughts?

Changes and decay
never coming to an end
I balance on tipping points
in the golden mean