It is the space between moments,
the pause between breaths,
where everything holds
and nothing slips away.
A quiet tension,
not a struggle,
but a meeting point--
where light leans into shadow,
and stillness walks beside motion.
It's the weight of letting go
matched by the pull of holding on,
the soft edge where certainty fades
and doubt feels like home.
Balance is not perfect,
not steady,
but alive--
shifting, adjusting,
always almost falling
and somehow,
never quite.
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
I would like to translate this poem