CITIZEN DOSSIER

Those who gaze at drifting clouds
may miss the stones beneath their feet—
the road turns sharp, the path steep,
while dreams ascend, out of reach.

Those who fix upon the road ahead,
tracing every twist and stone,
may never lift their gaze to see
all that shifts and will not still.

What the eye elects to hold,
slowly blooms to what is real:
one lifts you toward the weightless blue,
one roots you to the world below.

Yet clutch at either, close the fist,
and both slip through an open hand—
the clouds grow dim, the road turns blind,
balance is the art that's left behind.

So walk with eyes that softly shift:
now earth, now sky, now life between—
the fullest path is neither one,
but both, held lightly, seen, unseen.