fulcrum

Close your eyes and notice the sounds around you
Notice your desiring body
Notice your satiated body
Notice the pull of desire, where does it take you?
Notice the resistence of inertia, where is it keeping you now?

I move in silence in a hall created from the future:
a Belgian Temple, a Belgian Waffle, a Furnace, an Arc
A hall of two-by-fours, a sacred place, a disco, a temple, a meat market
With eyes closed I dance, I allow that I am witnessed, momentary oddity
A loud 'Texan,' a tourist, more interested in the picture than the moment
Gathers people, "come be in the picture, everybody come"
I work to stay in my dance, in my body, in the moment

I am the fulcrum
I am the present here, enjoying just what is
The sacred and the profane are balanced across the width of my arms
I reach again for the beams of the ceiling, I feel sunlight pour through gaps
I am exposed, blind, here
I hope for the best, temple beams donated to habitat homes
and then I see the forest released in flame and smoke
The fulcrum tilts toward indulgence, toward decandance, toward light

We are the fulcrums, choosing which way to fall
Toppled by the wind; tilted by a seed alighting on one side
the fulcrum tips
extend your arms far enough to touch each mountain range
extend your listening far enough to hear voices on another continent