The full and the bare can finally cross paths,
When balance is the key,
And atop a glowing trunk they did,
Dead,
Yet very alive,
Three of the corners droop,
While one remains pointed,
Like the nose of a snobbish young Brit.
Its thin structure is compressed between what feels like
The leg of an elephant
And a voluminous nest of paper cranes.
You can see how much they wish to soar,
To be freed from the tension,
But no bird leaves,
For it would lead to the destruction of balance
And the beauty that each one contributed.
But what if the universe,
Decided this structure did not follow its unspoken rules
The entire universe,
So it commanded that,
One
By
One,
The cranes must fall.
Beauty collapsed with the birds,
And over time, the compression and the tension also broke,
Leading the thin structure to splinter and shatter,
Now all that was left was a glowing trunk,
So for a third time the universe cracked its balance.

The balance subsided for a second time.
Though it shined from just one side.
The pendulum does not swing back
For this time only,
And it won’t,
Not until a finger,
A claw,
A talon
Flicks the light switch off
And the elephant leg is simply an elephant leg,
Sturdy and balanced all on its own.
Only then will the pendulum swing.