One day, sitting in a circus tent
      I thought of life, thoughts came and went
 
Each act, it seems is thoroughly rehearsed
   They may seem daring, but all players, well-versed
 
The secret is the rhythm, the background music
       Each note is a cue, when to drop, when to pick
 
For tight rope walking, we need a big pole
       And walking on thin air ? is a much simpler role
 
For general amusement, wild beasts are tamed
       But beasts are beaten , at their own games and shamed
 
A girl is seen rotating,  few knives are thrown
     But the knife-thrower’s inner thoughts are seldom known
 
The trapeze artists swing high and then catch
       The discarded swing of the previous batch
 
Music allows a certain grace and  some beauty
         But a net is provided for additional safety
 
The spot light is focussed always on players
    But it is the band that directs, trick is truly theirs
 
All that the spectators see is the glitter and the glow
Background music is the key, this they don’t know
 
The only true artists are the clowns in this circus
     They know each trick, but fumble, just to amuse us
 
The only true artists, these clowns do perform
     On sheer impulses, not to any music, any form !