On The Edge Of Choice Poem by Peter Hans

Sit.
Stand.
Run.
Breath.

Still and unmoving I continue,
staring out into the beautiful.
Having need to do something,
with everything to do,
doing nothing;
Sitting.

Knowing belief of success,
rising with the thought of motion.
Notice the color, the light,
reflecting against the window,
I begin;
Standing.

Blurs are the events in the streets,
Persons around me, alone still.
I am the fading friend,
released from thought against others,
embraced by nothing;
Running.

Ending at the step to face the edge,
seeing the chosen decent.
Choice lies beneath my eyes.
The reaper absent, this step is my future,
not death but an awakening;
I Breathe.

…Then leap.

Peter H.