Crisis is the need to please, incessantly.
That’s constantly.

Holding on, for fear she’ll float away
If ever she should start to think
That maybe the way you treat her
Is beneath her.

That’s crisis. And it’s in every breath
Released in the times that are laden
With stress.

Crisis is giving in.
Stasis is holding it down.

It’s in every verse
Sang softly from the peaks of the earth.
Melody drifting into the reaches of space.
That’s stasis.

Letting go, with the peace to know
That your suffering is only a passage.
Every atom of you made of magic.
A beauty everlasting.

Stasis is the way of being that’s meant to be.
That’s naturally.
It fills me up and soon I’m feeling weightless.
That’s stasis.