A precipice is a less daunting prospect
When considered from a diagonal.
I fear the vertical, the head first plunge
From an ambivalent seat.
I treasure these accommodations,
These clouds and crannies so remote
From the happenings of a malicious throng.
If an ibis I might nest in pure consciousness
Tending roots in the currents
But I am a stone forged from earth and sea.
From such an atmospheric high
I am likely to shatter under influence
And if not to break than I will surely drown.
That is what it means to be human,
These little deaths performed habitually
Behind closed doors, these triumphs
Which sour with recall. I want is not
The meaning of prayer but sequestered
As we are in the ID we cannot but want
Even if it excludes us from grace.