I suspended myself in this
the in betweening place
the neither one or the other place
no final judgement
it’s all been put on hold and I wait
dabbling a little at
processing my thoughts in this unreality…
Too much, too heavy I groan…
but a birdwing flutter of will brushes me to try,
try and stand up…
Swiftly defeated I crumple beneath
the burdens crushing
will and life like a wine press
even when the grapes were dry and hard and had nothing to give up.
I am waiting
as I always do
for the next
the if only
the Perfect Moment of clearing.
I have not immersed myself in this life,
I held fast swaying
swinging above it like an apprentice tightrope walker,
so neither can I let death have me entirely.
for a judges grave pronouncement,
a booming gavel,
to set me free.
Falling into one thing or another,
falling out of in between,