“Zen Juggling”

…”DEADEYE THE DARING!”
The arena was plunged into darkness. Seconds passed, and the crowd began to murmur uneasily. Then a dim, purple glow rose from the center ring. A drooping face with a wild, lopsided grin. One eye rolled uncontrollably. The other soaked in its surroundings.
The figure gave a slight bow, and then tossed four objects into the air. They were torches that burst into orange flames as they reached their highest point, leaving trails as they came tumbling back down. No sooner did one drop into his hand, was it again flung up into the air. Faster and faster the torches spun through the air, to the delight of the awe-struck crowd.
There was a frantic drumbeat that seemed to pace the juggler’s flashing hands. Other than that, not a sound could be heard.
To most, it appeared to be a feat of great concentration. For Deadeye, it was second nature. Here, in this moment, the Juggling Jester felt true peace descend upon him. His hands moved like separate entities. He did not see or hear the crown. Nothing existed but self, one with his props.
Deadeye was juggling. He was Zen.