again.
like the moment before a musician begins to play.
Chopin, Mozart, Beethoven, or Britney?
Who can know but he?
And even he...
like the moment between punch and dead arm,
you know whats coming, and you dread.
dare add hope to this bubbling agony?
like the moment between push and movement
straining, without a shred of doubt that it will work and we will roll right on into a happier piece of future.
but then...
the moment between thunder and lightning.
surreal, the soundless ripping of the sky.
As the very fabric of the sky crackles and wrenches itself into a thousand pieces of melancholy tuesday afternoons, the weave of the sky tears for just a moment, letting through the harsh light of a day unknown to mind or heart, a time unloved, unseen, breaks through. For just that minuscule moment, we wait.
And for a while, there has been flash, but no pain yet.
Truth, but no dawning.
every millisecond drags on for years as we are stuck in this moment.
stuck between 'yes' and 'but'
between lighting and thunder
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