riphssmyth

There's a grapefruit spindrift on the kitchen island where I’m sitting. The digital clock at the top of my Mac Book Air screen reads 9:16 p.m.

I’m still stuck in the same grade, with the same people, doing the same thing. I’m ready to expand like steam filling a room, like water gushing from a spigot and into a basin. I’m ready to float, or maybe sink.

I like the pace of time. I think that life tends to move on on just the right cadence, and if I had a Time Machine I would use it to lock time at its current pace.

Cold, bitten, waiting at the door

Rain like the universe’s tears streaming down his cheeks

He knows rejection—it's known him from the start

You see, forgiveness is his revenge on himself

Mountains like monuments waiting

And so he sat there

Engulfed in the presence of time

And realized that his path was carved out for him

Awaiting footsteps

Begging for mistakes

If only he were to begin his journey

I pepper myself with questions

Questions that bubble up and spill over

Out into the wide world

And I stop to admire time

I pause in my tracks

Tracks that have gone a long way

And within this pause