Dancing at the Edge of Darkness

Your eyes blur,
perhaps from tears,
perhaps from the long hours
that have ground you down,

more likely by choice,
a decision not to let the harsh edges
of life cut you too deeply,
and to see the beauty

even while dancing
at the edge of darkness,
to ignore all pretense of perfection
allowing in the wonderful

and wallowing in it.

About this poem

I gave up on expecting perfection many, many, many years ago. And my prize for doing that? I found lots and lots and lots of wonderful.

Good trade off.

Tom