so when a challenge comes into view,
I call them in
the inner few.
my fearfulness, Tim,
eyes sharp, senses primed,
always listening
for what moves in the night.
my critique, Regina,
queen of the think-tower throne,
weighing each word,
each risk, each tone.
my curiosity, Joe,
our second climber of stone,
asking what if
where none have gone.
my love, Sati
steady, warm, and true,
no name required;
she already knew.
from near and far,
from dark and from light,
I gather them round
the table of sight.
with one hope,
to lift the sword
together.