Tight Rope Walker

Denial of self becomes the limit.
The sign is plain: Shalt not!
Why he should
is for fools to ponder.

Defying bans,
he holds to his careful pace.
His goal surrenders.

And who will say
whether skill or benevolence
is for him the grander?

The figure on the wire is slender.
We hold our breath,
again, each step that he takes.

And he is young, his age a benefactor.
His detractors
are unwilling to credit his grace.

The question is: Will he finish?
Such depends on skill,
the extent to which mind and feet are one.

He knows haste kills.

The tension among watchers grows.
It’s step by step,
foot raised and set down
again,
always after pausing.

It's the goal on which his eyes lock.
Otherwise, it's him
on which all other eyes fix.

And what if he should make it?
What has been resolved
except for further trials.

And if he fails?

Every act requires courage:
to bow again,
refuse all adulation,
go home once more,
behind him close the door.

Give up his pride?
It's all that he has left:
tongue lost; feet tied.