There’s a thin line, Nana would say.
A thin line between good and evil.
A thin line between love and hate.
A thin line between zealousness and overweening.
A thin line between self-righteousness and hypocrisy
A thin line between diplomacy and cowardice.
So many thin lines.
And how true are they, anyway?
Nana said sugar is good.
Too much sugar, diabetes.
Less sugar is good.
A lot less sugar, and you’re dizzy, or worse, out cold in the street.
What is the tipping point?
When does “very sweet” become “too sweet.”
When do the “nice and amiable” become the “naive and pushovers?”
Where exactly do we draw the line?
What even is the line?
And if we remain there, hanging on the fence.
Not picking a side.
What then would it be? Nonpartisan? Apathetic?
Again, still being a coward?
Does that not make us the very evil we speak of?
The cowards we criticize?
The very hypocrites we condemn?
In that little yet wide area between white and black,
Are we becoming the very things we hate?
Or do we forever teeter on the edge.
One leg in the balance, and the other
Daintily testing the waters
Of the other side of the scales.
For we all perpetually dwell in our sins.
And shun those who sin the sins we don't.
But as the long the earth remains.
The thin lines forever abound
Clumsy, messy, but intricately woven to ensure we never get it right.
Never perfect. Never the standard.
We can only hope...
As the world falls apart around us.
That we always tell ourselves the truth.
On when we no longer reside.
Within the comfort zone of the thin line.
Image is mine.
