On the Verge

by Richard Dittami

Sometimes,

we imagine we are ready.

There are times we must make ready long before

we could have imagined.

The tipping point,

once past,

is like a trigger squeezed.

Reaction that cannot be taken back.

And what is it that follows?

Should the bow be unstrung before the arrow flies?

Time on this earth is unidirectional. Always forward, never back.

Beyond the verge is a staccato tumble into time arrested.

In strobe like sequence

legs and arms flail into the future,

swimming in a medium

of fresh awakenings.