Petit

Imagine a high wire act, the tallest of buildings, the longest of drops, two points connected, joined with rope, a cable, a line, a life line; two in your hands, one on your feet. And your balance, your balance keeping you alive, and you, keeping your balance, nothing more precious, nothing more worth keeping, your breath, your heart, your gaze, all working for the rhythm and flow of each moment. A small tip, a wobble or stutter and life will tumble before your eyes, a few moments of glorious suspension before the sick thud of concrete reality. But what if you don’t? What if you fail to fall? If you transcend the conditions set for you, the human condition, the restraints and restrictions of all those ropes tied and binding. What if you slip those for one moment, however brief, and have that glimpse? And if, so be it, if, then, you shall come fluttering down like a bird, or plunging like a stone wrapped in paper, if that should happen, you shall forever have that moment, that glorious fractious moment, that stretched before you like eternity, perhaps even became eternity. And those fumblers, those weaklings, that die in their bed stewed in their own fetid indifference, they shall cry out to you: 'Save us O dreamer of such glorious vanity, for in this life we have forgotten how to sleep.'