The Walk

I'm walking on the thin line, Between love and hate, Passion and pain, Desire and denial. Between the mouth that speaks, And the lips which are concealed. The unnerving silence, Or the numerous words that are being uttered, Well planned to pierce, The thick wall between the mind and the heart Of the naive;the curious;the lover; or foe. In there an array of recounts, Which my ears cannot fathom, Or my pen write, Or my lips tell, Or my mind ponder. Tension and frustration, Fabricated lies and withheld truth. And there is an eager need to correct, But the truth and lies are of the same source: The ears that hear this. And the eyes that observe it too. Providing the same tension, That puts the mind to rest, Or tears the heart into pieces. But love is only the reflection of hate. Happiness,the product of much lost pain. And desire ignited by denial. I'm walking on the thin line, Between friends and foes. Between enemies at peace, And friends at war. And what separates them Is far from anger. Neither hate nor greed, Nor jealousy and betrayal, But fear.... The fear to love unconditionally. The fear to tolerate, Because that only makes us weak. The fear to give Because we don't have. We don't have the patience To look into the mirror And see nobody but ourselves. I'm walking on the thin line Between the heart and the mind. Between the mind that thinks, And the heart that feels. There,i find an array of detail Too simple for the common mind