The curse of creativity

Either at the cusp of insanity

or brutality of reality,

Tread cautiously this tightrope;

keep your stance tall.

You might be touching the sky

and caressing the clouds

but beneath there is a 1000 ft fall.

I know you feel this incessant need

to stumble and let go;

To see if you can use

the gravity acting upon your descending body

as a metaphor for your never-ending woes.

And far down inside

the question gnaws,

Is the fall worth the words?

Are the words worth the fall?

But you'll take the leap anyway

Your psyche knows no bounds;

The next breath you'll take

Is when you find the unfound.

You beat a poet's heart,

Can scout unfathomable heights,

but soon you'll run out of breath,

You can't yet escape mortal life.