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.
I feel my way again. It’s never clean.
The path is clouded. Hesitate and stall.
This balancing could rip me at the seams.
Now and never. Push-pull. That’s the dream.
Less is more. Moderation protocol.
The middle path before me like a beam.
To balance here is smarter than it seems.