Aimless

I am a moment, undone. While for you time continues in a linear fashion, it pauses for me. Relents the ceaseless onslaught and offers a moment of reprieve which shocks me.

When it suspends me in its orbit, I float. Dizzying. Cloying. Tumultuous. The ground has disappeared, I fear, and I’m weightless but not in the way I’d once craved when my corporeal flesh struck ground.

I can still see, though. And, from my vantage, you move with sinuous ease which makes me envious of the weight that has settled in your bones. Your smile is unbound; your gestures, easy.

And, in these seconds that are not seconds, I gain a century and watch as you remain the same. If I could reach a hand to my face, I’d expect wearied leather beneath my touch but, from experience, only plump exuberance will find the tips of reaching fingers. It haunts me, that age. I wait but it never catches up.

My bubble will pop any instant. I’ll have no warning, I know. And my eyes, sealed open and wandering yet locked still, will release and blink once more.

But not yet. For now, I’m here in my moment.