Tenative

Is it truly possible

To be smack dab in the middle?

To be caught

In the exact second

Between Now

And Then?

I am sitting in the midst

Of the most beautiful horizon

Neither bound in spirit

By up or down

Just basking in the twilight

Of the most heavenly Divine.

Moving stealthily  among  shadows

Of ancient times

Witness to the millionth tribunal

Of wind and grass and trees

I hear their secrets

In the swirling mists of dawn

Entwined in the ripple and stir

Of the silent lake

I float

In my yellow canoe.

Alone.

Adrift.

I listen.

Awakening.

I see.

Surrounded by the knowing

I feel it’s truth

Yet I am weighted in the misbelief

That if I rock just ever so lightly

This way

Or that

I will drown in the depths

Of uncertainty

Forever grasping at the lifesaver ring

Tossed in carelessly

A habit of late

Without thought or consequence

By a soul who has no measure

Of who I really am.

Or what she saves.

Or why.

In this moment

I believe in the Universe

But, in love

I am in no true state

Of trust.

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