Dans le Bureau

I teeter on the edge of an abyss
My world, my words, are telling and are true
Quick-painted, light, and tinged with bitter bliss
Wrapped coils circle round my self and you -

You strangely stir, and file for disaster
Beyond the brink of bright bespattered blue
Beyond the known, approach the throne, my Master
Creating ken from what we thought was through.

Within my box I write, in sudden snatches -
They'll catch me not; excelling as I hide
The buried flame I'll tame,
And tame it faster,
for all the hurts that chink away my pride
(What's that, inside?)

Bestride the subtle edge, I barely balance
Slight shift could send me swift into the brink
This tight, taut line is all that's mine
But I was made to dance, and not to sink.
(What then, you think?)