Periphery

You who have always lived
   in the hot center of things--
The molten cores, the stellar furnaces--
May wonder what existence is like
Out here in the extracelestial outback.
Well, as one might expect,
It can be a bit chilly, with little relief
From icebound stolidity;
But if you can shrug off some inconvenience--
Tardy transmissions of current events,
Limited access to entertainment,
Nary a guest begging tea and your time--
There are three major benefits:
A steadier heartbeat,
Reprieve from anxiety,
And the steam-hiss of thoughts seeping up from below,
Creeping back through the clefts of your consciousness,
Returning from exile, where you once chased them
Deep into underground tombs of neglect;
For foundry machinery makes quite a racket,
It shoves all the subtle out of mind, out of sight,
And only escape to the soundless periphery
Can restore a true balance to everyday life.