I know
I can only do so much
And go so far
And expect just so.
And I know
That if
I were to go
Just that much further
And hope
For that much more.
The delicate balance
That must be maintained
Will be lost
The glass
would shatter to bits
And all illusions
Would fade away.
Without illusions
We can simply
Not survive.
The alternatives
Are too painful.
So, we must maintain
the sense of balance
The illusion
Of control.
Step one
Step two
In a line
We march
Forever forward
To the beat
prescribed
By the weight
Of expectations.
Never out of tune.
Never breaking rhythm.
Never giving in
To the urge
To take that one step
Out of line.
If I do.
The glass will shatter.
And that would hurt
Just too damn much.
Disjoint Wisdom 