Tightrope

There is too much in a dream
to live with.
There is too little in life
to dream of.
There is a tightrope between.
The poet, born from a dream,
dares not leave his tether
or he will fall.
The other says there is no dream
and lives somehow.
He too will fall.
There is one who trembles in balance,
but walks
not looking down,
or up.
The sky moves
and there is darkness in the pit.
He who has the strength of passage
has only that.
He, too, will fall.
The moving sky claims none of these.