Transitory

This moment,

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 —

And silence.

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.

 

 

Photo: mlejaster

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