November 5th

For twenty seven days
Slowly it became taut
The net beneath our feet
So the lesser one could drop

And now he has
From his acrobatic stand, fell
Unto the earthen ground
And dissolved to wet, hot sand

For weeks now they swung
Back and forth
And traded the baton with a
Condescending force

But now the rope has caught
And the giant cane him come to play
Pulling out the unable
From the taxing fray

And he's humiliated
Laying on the netting of the rope,
Make up smeared
His heart lacks hope

And comparing to a joust,
With two men with poles
Galloping toward eachother
Looking to make a hole
Each gathering friends, fans the like
Cheering for the one
Who they think might.
But when the lesser
Gets impaled by the stick
The fans cry out,
It's the end of his wick.

And so now the strong light is brandished anew
Atop of the thin, tight rope
The net is still taut, for they don't know what he'll do
He might jump off and diminish our hope.
Amen.