My safety pole is gone
my feet seek common ground
but find none.
They shift, restless, under me
seeking a solace I cannot find.
I twirl and slip on territory
as I go numb, past my date.
My net, my pole, disapears
from view.
My hope dwindles, and is lost.
It devours,
giving life its cycles, of whose
point I cannot fathom.
Fair is not the issue here.
It is of life
and death.