In a flurry of motion, a spectacle unfolds
As seven balls dance with precision and grace
An artist of the air, a master of control
Swapping and twirling, in a mesmerizing embrace
The gap between trajectory and pace
A delicate balance, a moment of hesitation
The arc of descent, a dance in space
Where timing is key, a feat of concentration
Rehearsing alone, rehearsing being alone
A solitary pursuit, a quest for perfection
Searching for sense in the chaos of motion
A rhythmic flow, a seamless connection
What holds when there is no break from motion?
What holds when there is no break from emotion?
The gravity of the task, the weight of the art
The artist makes magic, with skill and devotion
But in a blink of an eye, a twist of fate
The balls are dropped, the spell is broken
The audience gasps, holding their breath
As the artist regains composure, words unspoken
They have yet to stop holding their breath
As the artist picks up the pieces, with a steady hand
A lesson in resilience, a lesson in grace
As the show goes on, a testament to the power of pace. (\"The Juggler\") by Courtney Weaver Jr.