With No Regrets...
by David B. King (2002)

the city roared today
louder than previous days
and the clouds moved this morning
like they'd never seen such day
and the trees and their branches and their leaves
began to sway and sway

through the time, through the space...

a juggler sat atop the trees
his thoughts fixed on his growing need
to make his way to safety
and to find his love whoever
wherever whenever he jumps his way
before his body dies today

in his time, in his space...

the trees came crashing
the clouds rained earth and fire and ash
and the juggler lost his balance today
falling from his perch above the day
sinking into the city's roar
into the question and chance

of this time, of this space...

but the juggler stood to the sun
his body tattered and lost in sway
of falling trees and dying day
and rivers of fire and ash that lay
before him on this path
before him on this chance

through the time, through the space...

the juggler moved
between the bending lights 
and falling branches of his day
in search of a love he'd lost
but never had but always
hoped would come

out of the time, out of the space...

the paths he took were broken
the lights he followed dim
and the city's roar stole each day
while the rivers of ash flowed 
between his legs below his feet
making their way

to the time, to the space...

where and when they might breathe
where and when they might eat
where and when they might laugh
where and when they might sleep
where and when they might live
where and when they might love

in their time, in their space...

not in the city nor the storm
not in the time nor the space
was where the juggler met him
and began his life this day
for he followed his heart all the way
with no regrets

from that time, from that space...