Classic Poem

I am a circus lady and dance among daggers that are set on the arena with their points upward. Barely, barely touching the edge of the daggers, my flexible light body avoids death, that might be caused by falling.
With bated breath they view my dancing and someone there prays to God for me. Before my eyes the points glow in a fiery circle. And no one knows how I would like to fall. . . .