It was for the fun of it,
or so I thought.
I’d do it for the fun of it,
for the great surprise
and greater purpose of living on an edge-
the edge.
I guess I’d forgotten it’d already been defined,
before in some past time,
and re-defined again;
a proper name to call the truth-
and already properly lived on,
already crossed.
My balancing act was nothing new.
I was too late,
too late to look upon the end and know it’s face.
But it was the longing that kept me coming,
a longing too strong for the petty qualms of reason,
too frail to fight the occasional surge of will and self-preservation.
I grew old into childhood again,
I’d trade myself for fun.
in parentheses 