Fulcrum Poem


The pendulum swings side to side.

Back and forth like a magicians pocket watch.

Gilded to be a very old heirloom polished over and over again.

An average object made priceless.

The memories of the original owner long lost.

A shiny duality attended to brightly.

***

Back and forth it goes.

On one side is pleasure and the other pain.

A reminder of the carving of the past and the stream of the future.

Above it is heaven and under is hell.

A location both chosen and predetermined.

All our own and both someone else’s property.

***

The pendulum circles the air.

What lies at the center?

Both right and left have their uses.

Up and down need to have a place.

It is like something unseen creates the orbit.

Some great universal mystery the eye cannot track.

***

It is there in the invisible that the fulcrum lies.

The force drawing balance back to the center.

The pendulum never strays far because the fulcrum keeps score.

A measurer of sanity and keeper of right.

What all of reality rests weight on.

The final equalizer.


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