The tumult is over–
walking along for twenty years
on fraying tight rope.
I've made it to the other side
and the rope is broken, gone.
Now I must get down from the platform,
and fall from the clouds.
Never knew the joy of that fear
until there was nothing left to be afraid of.
In a twister, I was spinning,
wishing for peace,
waiting for calm.
In the end I was dropped where I began.
The birds now sing of calm air,
a gentle breeze rustles my hair.
The sunlight exposes
the damage.
I sit on the ruins of my house.
The foundation is all that's left.
I meditate on the peace I once wished for.
I feel it surround me.
I wish for something new.
I wait to spin again.
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