
Fleeting ticks breast the tape
as our thoughts collide,
this is the moment.
The puddle shallow surface
glazing no hidden depth
no glittering promise
nothing but a whisper of its fellows.
Then in this moment, this breath,
this seconds tick,
ephemeral life Cinderellas from chrysalis
into a beauteous diaphaneity.
The flicker of an eyelash
releases what was
from the claws of what will be
into what is.
This is the moment.
1 comment:
A most beautiful analogy of That Day, Keith--wonderful!
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