Limelight Blinded

Tungsten brilliance reflected
on chalk dulled masterpieces
grinning godlike in domes
of suspended disbelief.

This is a stage.

This
is Colosseum, every night,
gladiators groveling for approval
or demigods challenging fear and death,
depending on the keeper of records
and reviews...

And while hearts beat staccato,
anxious to ache full throttle
in full display,
out there, without sanctuary
or safety nets,

others ache in darkness.

Savoring the moment,
soaking up perspective.

A love less arbitrary,
a life less obtained,
but gained in battle
for holy grails
less ordinary.

This is a stage,

a porthole through the looking glass
a page turned
a different way.

This is limelight
and a holy line never crossed.

So flaunt,
flash your vertigo on the edge of the abyss,
your dichotomy right over Occam's razor
and sing.

Sing the perception of every face turned your way
into staring, soaring, meeting you half way there
on the edge of their homely zones.

Drag them kicking and screaming,
chanting in delirium
into the holy circle of light
where you
and you alone
reign.

This is a stage,
so play.