This transitory position in time,
All the beauty and pain that it holds,
What boils and waits to unfold,
The thoughts that can’t fit to rhyme,
An aching to speed and freeze time.
The questions, burning, bursting —
The ages, the lifetime spent wondering
What the next second could bring.
From the beauty of now, just open the blinds:
A stolen glimpse into the next room
Hold back the clock hands, refusing to move
Unless I can share
The next moment with you.