Tension

circumstances beg us 
to play Icarus, 
with false pride to
rise above sanity, 
or complacency to sink 
below the surface of reason

forewarned by common sense,
nevertheless, ignoring sensibility 
we soar above the sun
challenging fate, failing then
crashing behind self-criticism
doubt, guilt and fear

our road is bordered
by hubris and depression. 
jumping between sides
oxygen thins, with
nowhere to stand, no time
to catch a breath, but

in those rare moments
of reflection we think;
“this can’t be us,”
looking for somewhere
to point our fingers
to make an assignment

at some turn on our road
there is a mirror
we see from either side
the reflection ourselves
with a finger pointing 
back at us

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