The show that goes on with or without us

The show that goes on with or without us

         for Sharon

The trapeze artist moves along the ropes of her web, each careful step, each swan dive orchestrated. He welcomes the updraft from his audience. Each ooh, each aah propels him to greater risks. He walks on a toe, twists by the will of his whistle, hangs by a nail.

She sits in the center, the silence of her eyes, the weight of her patience. Should he come too close...

Should she tire of his antics, a meal is never refused. Silk spun and dangled he'll keep till hunger hits. Such is the circus played out under the canopy of bushes, the big-top of trees.

Life's web sustains us, dear friend. And our roles? Sometimes the predator, sometimes the prey. It's the circus, the show that goes on with or without us. It's art for those who play.

© Káre Enga [168.250] #35 November 25, 2011.

Note to self, previous edit: Trapeze artist, he moves along the ropes of her web, each careful step, each swan dive orchestrated. He welcomes the updraft from his audience. Each ooh, each aah propels him to greater risks. He walks on a toe, twists by the will of his whistle, hangs by a nail.

She sits in the center, the silence of her eyes, the weight of her patience. Should he come too close...

Should she tire of his antics ... a meal is never refused. Silk spun and dangled he'll keep till hunger hits. This is the circus played out under the canopy of bushes, the big-top of trees.

Life's web sustains us, dear friend. And our roles? Sometimes the predator, sometimes the prey. It's the circus, the show that goes on with or without us. It's art for those who play.