Precarious Grace

We stand,
with precarious grace,
in a place
crowded with
ghosts and
the twisted fringes
of obligation
and joy.
It is a
tightrope walk
through dusty echoes
that keeps us
on our
toes.
And so we walk,
boundless,
hesitant -
yes, both at once -
through a world
blazing
with the fire of
wonder and a bit
ink on parchment,
carrying our ghosts,
carrying our fringes.
And just so, we
reach a distant
shore
and dance.