Drishti
A tiny blemish mars the paneled wall,
a wooden smirch exposing earthy brown;
it pulls me inward, balances a fall.
I’m standing on one leg and “lifting tall”
when gravity begins to pull me down.
The tiny blemish mars the paneled wall,
and asks for nothing back but to recall
that fear can turn from verb to common noun,
it pulls me inward, balances a fall.
The world has gone awry, but this is all
that matters, where an ego goes to drown:
this tiny blemish on the paneled wall.
Why detail things so featureless and small,
not glittering cities but a simple town?
It pulls me in and balances a fall.
Brilliance can draw attention and enthrall,
but sparkles flash distraction on a crown.
The tiny blemish mars the paneled wall.
It pulls me inward, balances a fall.