Leaving

Standing beside the door,
Hands cupping your fate in the stilted air,
Where nothing is denied or lost.
The street outside is hushed, aware
Of the great event unfolding.

Thus at the moment of inertia,
When life is stilled,
Between the past and future come,
Against the push and pull.
The certainty and regret,
Percariously balanced.
Deciding to retreat or advance
The world is,

Waiting.

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