He thought he deserved
to be happy,
comfortable,
loved–
And he mastered it all.
He thought trials and troubles
were meant for others,
because their follies and failings
made them vulnerable to
crises and cares.
None of it reached him.

But comfort was not enough.
In the dark when
he was entirely alone,
he was drawn to risking it all,
he lingered so close to the abyss,
for so long, a voice
inside its shadow goaded,
“Step over or step back.”

So he stepped back,
away from the yawning void,
and then to the precipice again,
away and then back again,
like an automaton caught in a
danse macabre–
Dancing to the music of words,