No, often
It is in asymmetry
That I find balance
And beauty
Earth alone
Is home to billions of such convergences
Leading to this gesture of humility:
How can I know this convergence of mine
Is the best of billions
Or even any good at all
All I know
Of the billions of others
Is at best learned conjecture
Even with the most intimate knowledge
Thus am I both creator and interpreter
Laden with history
And regrets
Lofted by hope
And purpose
Levied by love
And compassion
Most days I carry the weight
Lightly, aloft
Some days I cannot leave the berth
Tethered, grounded
So I touch the Earth
Am grateful for its stability
That I always have a place to land
Rest, and free myself of burdens
Then breathe deeply
Filled and empty
I take to the skies again
Most of us are allowed a choice there
To dive right in with more or less grace
Or cling to the land against the inexorable tides
No matter the choice, whether or no we have one
We are all, inevitably, drawn down into that great depth
I rather like to think a beautiful light awaits us there
A couple dares the ocean
To douse their sneakers
Which it will no doubt oblige
Her morning walks allow no thought
For the outcomes of such imprudent wagers
Just the waves the sand and the wind
Now on the homeward leg to shower and eat
Then off to work six days a week
At the cafe with its cliches and charm
Where she serves many a breakfast
To tourists and their soggy feet