Anywhere the Wind Blows

Teetering on the edge, knuckles white

Mind racing, why am I here? spiraling

What can I hold? Or what can hold me?

How can it all somehow turn out right?

The edge is right there, am I ready?

 

Wonder and uncertainty battle

One pushing a direction, one pulling

What can I do with indecision?

Made of stardust, the mind is fragile 

Yet one thought can power a vision.

 

All of us are on the edge together

Hands flexing, intuitively seeking

For something solid to hold on to 

Even as the mind struggles to answer,

Bodies know there are things we can’t do

 

So, when faced with failure either way

Could falling end the goodness of being?

Or like a small seed blown from its tree

Could we influence how we obey?

In new ground now, but our own are we

 

This poem is about: 
Our world

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