The rope stretched on into infinity,
winding above the chasm of concrete and filth and sound.
He moved gingerly across it,
each step more calculated than the last.
I could hear his breathing, so controlled, so serene,
even from down below.
I clapped along with the others;
his infinitesimal form stepped out onto the rope and into history.
I screamed when the wind made those great spires sway;
the whole city let out a sigh of relief
when his feet connected with the cracks in the grimy sidewalk.
When he did it again, we wondered why.
He answered us not with words
but with a gaze full of steely resolve
We waited with baited breath;
he mounted the string again
And performed the impossible once more.