I jostle my high wire ‘tween heaven and hell.
Smelling roses above; feeling cinders as well.
I’ll lose my balance and seek help from above.
As I totter and tremble, please guide me with love.
I’ll slip often before reaching the other side.
I hope you’ll be there to balance my slide.
My demise will only come if I fear a fall,
By losing faith in myself and your lasting call.
My high wire is fraught with myriad dangers.
Balance will always keep cinders as strangers.
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
I would like to translate this poem