With a sly wink and a flourish of fingertips,
Crystals and prisms sparkle the air
With energies spiralling like rainbows,
Dazzling and bewitching all who watch.
Blinking, I watch the juggler before me,
Marvelling at his raw energy and skill,
Dextrously flipping his orbs of life
Around his head, but not letting them fall:
There is no shattering or broken glass, here,
In this cobbled street of historic virtue.
With teeth sparkling white in the night,
His grin is clear to see,
As he dances and permeates my mind,
In visions of delightful cravings:
Behold, as the waves of sensation,
Run across my beguiled and smiling mortal soul,
As he encaspsulates me in a youthful beat
Of rich humour and fun-filled comradeship,
As he pulls in my mind's essences,
Pouring them into a cup of his own making.
Look at his first ball of glass -
What is it you see?
That deep longing,
The yearning that keeps fighting
Within?
Yellow and inviting like a sunshine drenched field.
See inside the second orb of incandescence -
Its beauty and wonder
Sucking you in -
With an orange fire of desire,
Covering all your wants and needs in fierce fervour.
Finally, his third wonder -
That glitters between his moving fingers...
That which is all of us,
Joyful play faced with dangerous reality -
That we might dance only to fall and shatter.
The trick, I believe, as I watch -
This man leap into the air and run amok,
Through a vast crowd of cheers and applause,
Throwing his shining pieces of us all into the wind,
In wild, unabashed freedom:
Is simply to watch;
Learn from his guiding hands,
Sense the taste of fear on our tongues,
Embrace the world's tingling movements,
Know that we live in perilous balance...
Pixie
