The pendulum swings-
delicate life.

When goodness usurps,
both blades of the knife.

Nostalgia-when happiness,
seeming so clear

yet, soon the non wounded
slashes appear.

While riding crescendo,
baritone lie in wait.

Upon its arrival,
the Earth trembles great.

Terrible fortune,
only could be

yet, hours before,
the world at your knees.

How does one reckon
ying until yang?

The balance of purpose?
Beauty, then pain?

Upon higher learning
is there divine?

Or is life simply scripted,
Reality died?