It’s strange – you think you know it all,
you’ve built a life which most would call
solid, secure; but one fine day
the props will simply fade away,
without a how or why. You’ll fall.

The weightless pleasure will appal,
the lack of safety net enthral –
the loose air’s utter disarray.

Or else, you’ll come up to a wall
too long to walk around, too tall
to scale.  Gateless – but in a way
thrillingly blank.  Stopped dead, you’ll say:
at last I know nothing at all.
It’s strange. You think you know.

First published in HappenStance ‘Sampler’.