At A Movement’s Notice

I am amused by the disparity of our perception.  One evening is gone in a single conversation, yet some minutes can persuade a more leisurely passage of time.  We are seldom aware of the steady march,  the cadence too easily lost to distraction, though it never changes, never waits, never pauses.

I can see the hourglass,
Can count the grains of sand.
Pondering the precipice,
Wherever I will land.

I refuse the quiet air
And fight inertia’s pull.
Urge my feet when still beneath
Intention rendered dull.

Phantom crowds of silent doubts,
A challenge, or a plea?
To act upon the moment
Requires not certainty.

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