I’ve always had an obsession with balance. Keeping the scales even, no matter the cause. Like a clock ticking - incessant and callous. Fighting off demons, or nurturing flaws. A little bit of happiness when you’re feeling down. A touch of despair for the overjoyed clown. A little more water when it’s far too dry. Bump up the gravity if you’re feeling too high. A cloud or two missing, from this sunny day. A proud python hissing, while little kittens play. A half empty chalice, now that’s equilibrium. Hang in the balance, it’s more than an idiom. “That must get boring,” I hear you all say. So I’ll spice up the structure and keep you… At bay in the ocean, floatin’ through waves. The flame, it is open; you’re loathing these days. It’s tame while in motion, blacks coating the greys. A spiral of omens, hand-sculpted in clay. A prosperous nation, dispelling the dark. Exclusive invitation, aboard an old ark. A stroke of pure genius, in the nick of time. A little more sweetness, in this bitter wine. For if you’re too high, oh, the heights you will fall. And if you’re too low, It means nothing at all.