And now
that the fruit is ripe
but doesn’t fall into your hands;
now that the sun has risen within your eyes,
former wells of deepest darkness;
now tell me—if the courage to stare
at your image in the mirror does not fail you—
whether it has been worth the struggle.
All the unrecognized pain,
the exasperating wait,
the slow and heavy flow of time,
the wrinkles on your forehead
and the furrows in your soul.
All that
because you refused to look beyond the fence
and petrified on the brink of precipice,
unable to take a step either forward or back.

And now
tell me—
what is all that heat worth
once your dream is lost?
What is all that light worth
if your sight is blurred?

And now
let me tell you—
the fruit will finally drop
and you will miss it;
busy keeping your precious balance,
busy watching where your feet are resting.