When is an edge soft enough
that there is space for dancing?
Is there dancing?
Dialogue?
Or are all the walls
so rigid and firm
That nothing crosses...
except air, light, water,
Sound, words, vibration?
What passes? What is held back?
A window opens,
A new day dawns,
Suddenly so much is possible.
Do we sense the moment's opening,
And step forward,
or do we leave our guest
waiting, unanswered?
How do we navigate
the edges between us?
Inside us?
How do we soften hard edges?