We stand unsteady,

Reaching futilely for a balance that isn't there,

While the ground creaks and groans

Beneath our feet.

It's so cold, so brittle here, darling.

In hopes of warmth,

We tip-toe carefully forward.

Every step we take brings us closer

To that golden center we've only seen,

Only felt in dreams.

Our foundations we thought were steady

Now slide beneath us,

And we shiver in fear of unexplored sensation

As our fantasies condense into something real.

We're so afraid of being cold, honey,

Yet we continue on.

We push for thin support,

Cautiously following the footsteps of others,

And find a white softness

That crackles and gives

When our soles meet on shaky ground.

We carefully place ourselves,

The weight of words unspoken on our shoulders,

One. Single. Ounce. At a time.

Eventually, the blood from our tired, clinging hands

Reaches our hearts to warm them,

And we are helpless,

For we are afraid of being cold,

So terrified of breaking the ice

That we may deny ourselves of the comfort we seek.

Still, we continue to risk falling

Deep into those frozen waters,

Just short of what dreams are made of,

Because to find that golden center

In which everything is uncertain

Is to realize

That our hearts were in the right place after all.