There is a fine thin line between life and death
And this line is filled with music and rhythm
This line this skinny life-line that holds me to this plane
There is syncopation there is harmony there is style
And it keeps me going through the dry hard days
When I wonder if I wandered across the fields correctly
Or if my decisions thus far have been riddled with errors
A hiccuping tempo rubato down to an interrupted cadence
and an odd shuddering rallentendo of the soul
There is a fine thin line between living and existing isn't it?
Alan Watts once said there is no greater duty than to live
And we have no other work really but to be alive
But what does this mean to live to breathe to be alive?
Is it enough to pass the hours day after day in human pursuits?
Making the front-end and the back-end of life trot in unison
Must I also fill my days with happy thoughts and hope?
Should I stand here and shout at the heavens for a sign
Must I knock on doors and plead soulfully to be heard
What is the reason for these challenges that come thick and fast
Am I paying for my mischief is there some family karma in a past life
Where we must pay tribute to the Fates in some cosmic hunger game?
I know not.
What I know is this, and only this, my dear love
There is a fine thin line between happiness and death
I walk it daily and this fine thin line keeps me alive
With song, with dub-steps, 16-beat music and double pentameter
The line glows orange and red and blue and pink
Always fluorescent now, it keeps me whole and alive
As long as the music plays...here I stand as its music chimes
But I know the line can turn wild if I don't respect its power
And so I keep playing the music that keeps it tame
I feel a wind blow down my spine and things go black
This black wind...sometimes it is warm and sometimes cold
I see through a telescoping lens of lines that don't intersect
A carnival mirror of shimmering lines upon lines upon lines
And I realize I am staring down the rest of my life (and yours)
The music plays on and verily, sometimes I run across
Sometimes I walk in abruptly staccato fashion
Sometimes I crawl lumberingly against the black winds
And sometimes I go hand over hand just to be sure of things
At once clown ninja and terminator samurai
Sometimes I am barely hanging on for dear life
And then the music judders and stops, a sudden break
And I know it is now or never...it is up to me.
I have to re-start the music myself. Somehow.
What I know is I must get my eyes back on track
Load and lock on to the horizon ahead tighten the slack
But my soul that resides in my liver questions me
Is there a horizon or anything else left to see?
Is there anything ahead? Another tempo or three?
I stand looking through a telescope of imperfect cadences
And I wonder is this yesterday or am I peering into the future?
Balancing on this thin shining tightrope the music flutters on
Always on call as I wait to be summoned around
Your explainer of things
The interpreter of malapropisms and maladies
The inspector of hopes and heartbeats
I did not ask for this role but it is here
I did not want this role but it is clear
I never expected then that it would be this dear
I am honoured to be here on this tightrope
Standing fast between you and your demons
Pushing oblivion away by the skin of my teeth
Lining up stealthily I await our key to heaven's gate
As we battle nightly between the darkness and the light
There is a fine line between life and death
I do not fear it as long as it has rhythm, it has soul, it pulsates
I dance to its music every day even as it fades
My feet crack and bleed I stumble but I keep dancing
Your smile, your eyebrows, your scintillating commentary, your nose
Your loving heart and unconditional love they keep me going
On a wing and a prayer sent out a hundredfold
A thousand Amens and continuing
(C'est ma famille qui donne sens à ma vie...)