This balance
Taoistic
Libra
Thing has taken
An anatomical turn
Weak runner’s hamstrings
Tired of being neglected
Begged for more attention
And couldn’t handle the new work load
So they complained
All the way to the lower back
Leaving a determined and overly prideful
Ego
To decide about quitting or forging ahead
Lunges it would be
Straight back, controlled descent
Asking the quads to shoulder the load

Twenty four hours later
A peaceful calm exists
With tempers still threatening
The return of the muscular militia
That fought for the lower ground
The hamstrings at the negotiating table
Being stretched to change their ways
But giving very little
The quads, sore
And maybe pulling enough
To keep peace in the region

The body
So amazing in its construction
So particular in its ways
Maybe today I’m over thinking
The balance of tension
With this striated soap opera
But it sure is fun
Trying to understand
How everything works