Learning to walk

In the beginning
The land fell away on both sides

I walked a tightrope
I watched a horizon

This is the only way not to fall:
to put each step exactly where it goes and nowhere else.

The waves rose up. The air stormed.
Still,
only one put to place each foot.

The stars did not waver
Then, all was calm around me
The storm was yet outside
just distracting: a horizontal pillar of cloud and of fire
I walked through the Eye
until placing one foot in front of the next was second nature.

Then the rope became an open field
After all, with practice, what's the difference when regardless of terrain, you have only two feet and one path?

Speed skaters know the only place for each narrow blade is beneath the center of gravity.
We balance on an intersection with reality.
This walking is a meditation.
It no longer matters whether I follow the thread or it follows me.
From outside, it looks precarious.

I remember a chess player stating that he thinks only one move ahead - the best move.
The field may be wide.
The path is narrow.
And in each moment, only one step.
I find this comforting.
Even liberating.