Sometimes I lose my balance and my nerve,

I go sliding down the curve of the earth.

I lose my guiding stars in alien constellations,

Find myself walking the spiral of an infinite stair. 

I sense to lose my footing is to lose my life,

My hand has slipped from yours and I am bare,

Of all my armour and my strength.

And yet I dare to hold to this dream,

That I may fall but still land upon my feet. 

That this sliding world that undermines my peace,

Is just illusion,

That the broad earth supports me still,

And your broad hands, and my gentle will.


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