Unstable equilibria

Not for us the languid falling
into place of pieces
that have lain comfortably
in wait, no, not for us
the rolling down a gentle hill.

No, the pendulum will not slow
or stop for us, nor the wheel
lie quietly on its side.

No, the waves will not cease
grinding our beaches into sand
or washing away
our footprints, our castles.

But no, though the bridge will sway
and not stay still, and though
the drop beneath will only deepen,
not for us the torpid sinking
into the oblivious river.

No, our feet will stop
only for that nervous peak,
that brush of lips and fingers
before a gasp and a misstep
send us hurtling back
to once more start again.

Posted via email from momeng's posterous