He had watched and admired
the high wire artist
such balance, such attention, such freedom
far above the crowd,
(no safety net was found)
far below upon the ground.
He studied intently, asked questions
(until nothing else remained in mind)
except that wire of freedom
above him strung
reached from the ladder long
with so, so many rungs.
One day he climbed steadily upwards
(with a conviction that could not be ruptured)
and out he stepped without a doubt
that this is the only way to go about.
But one thing missed (he had not seen)
the fine strong safety line
where the artist's chest had been......
The crowd below gasped and cried
see up there; that man in the clouds!
Some wanted to applaud
and others simply watched in awe;
and a few whispered quietly
with hearts in mouth (outstretched unbound)
I know that man
(we saw him on the ground)
His name is Cloony
and his nose was big and red and round...
And Cloony heard them all
from the wire, far above, the thrall.....
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.