A moment of terror comes without notice.

On the quietest day   in the sunlight,

when alone and the blue sky is not protective

nor the soft breeze

nor the smiling faces in the park

and the devil appears…..smirking.

 

A leaf falls at my feet,

a child laughs,

a siren sounds in the distance,

a cloud obscures the sun.

 

That moment arrives

and I seek the security

of anything at hand,

looking at the sidewalk,

measuring my footsteps,

being aware of my breathing,

and then…..

 

there is the silence

of the nothingness that surrounds me.

 

Then, there is peace.

 

It is the horror of that peace

that is the cornerstone of my terror

since there is no ending here.

 

The cycle, a cosmic joke,

is played out within my cells

like a monstrous secret dance.

or leopards in the forest.

 

I should be content in jungles,

where death awaits in every leaf,

beneath every stone,

where real terror abounds

like the dark recesses

of a terrible dream.

 

I should force myself awake

and stare into the sun

to burn truth into my brain,

for there it would reside

without analysis.

 

But I cannot pull away

from the moment,

and the moment is all I have.

 

Have you another moment you can give?

Can we exchange our moments?

Can the billion years that made me

and that made you

coalesce into a single one

whose dialectic makes a warming truth?

 

I doubt it. 

 

Just hold my hand.

 

That might be enough….