I dream I walk a razor’s edge
of balancing between
extremes of gravest consequence
and phantom foes unseen.
I’m tripping and I cut myself –
my thoughts dart east and west.
My balance rod feels wobbly
and distant from my chest.
My sweaty hands, they twitch and grip
the center of the beam,
returns within the dream.
“Relax, relax, and focus straight
ahead along the line,”
I tell myself and strain my eyes –
I’m searching for a sign.
“How will I balance in this dream
of freedom and of weight –
of joy and sorrow always linked,
of love affixed to hate?
Why is each step so treacherous
for both my heart and head?
Why are the options limitless
and yet my road a thread?
I’m called to peace and war at once;
I’m called to rest and work.
But where and how and with whom when?!”
And still the dangers lurk.
My tread is growing weak again,
my tired eyes despair,
when suddenly – “Look! See what comes
to meet my doubt-filled stare!
It comes – a sign!” It’s right before
my dim, short-sighted gaze;
there stands in front of me the Man
whose Name the ages praise.
His eyes assure my conscience as
His Spirit hears my plea.
He whispers, “Your obedience
is sure through faith in Me.
You’re walking on the razor’s edge
that God Himself has blessed.
That balance rod, it is His Word
you’re holding to your chest.
In peace be still, my child, and sleep –
you’ll persevering wake.
I’m Christ your Equilibrium
and I will ne’er forsake.”