Lone juggler lies deep in practice
intense and focused kneading the skill
shadows and lights dance all around,
swaying gently to the rhythm of form
there's motion and muscle fused in act
the sculpture getting carved in blur
it draws you in, the pace quickens
round and round, the gentle spin
and the gazer moves, gives into grip
onto the orbit, to reach the end
the gazed and gazer, audience and the act
are merged at ends, one and the same
you create, you consume, you watch and you play
the perpetual act of your reality machine
