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a villanelle

The middle path before me like a beam:
On one side nothing; on the other all.
To balance here is harder than it seems.

Take a step or two through greyish gleam.
Black and white on either side. I fall.
Mount again the middle path, the beam.

It’s narrow here. I hold to the regime.
The effort runs a bath of cortisol.
To balance here’s more stressful than it seems.

I should relax. To help avoid extremes,
A little snack, a little alcohol.
The middle path invites me like a beam.