Delicate

Our lives-

pickup stick games

from youth to death

sliding out so carefully

each thought from beneath the balance,

never knowing if one jolt,

one movement affects the next thought

and so on

as we pull each one with carefulness and agility,

observing what is to come next

and then beyond

weighing our choices

as we look from each angle

making our decision

so thoughtfully.

How did they become this jumble,

for this is how the game is played

they are not Lincoln logs waiting to be built,

a pile of shapes and varying sizes,

these slim fragments of color are all the same

as we are all the same

we try in earnest fashion to win each game,

sometimes succeeding

sometimes moving and tipping the scales

this way or the other,

yet we keep going as if there is no other way.

Until the last stick is picked up

we pay close attention to each detail,

if we do this, what may happen?

Not until the game is over,

do we finally realize it was simply a game after all,

it became more fun when we took the risk

and chanced failure to do so,

there was always a do over until there wasn’t.

But if each stick were a person in our lives,

and we kept adding instead of removing

oh what a beautiful shrine we could build,

higher and higher into the sky

we would win every time,

everyone would have a chance or say

and we could live in balance

and harmony

until the end of our days.