Pause
Between the north and south of want,
the magnet hovers,
neither pulling nor pushing,
just the suspended breath of particles
deciding which way to leap.
In that caesura,
that white space between charges,
the universe holds its tongue;
not silence but the pause
before music remembers it must become sound again.
Consider the hummingbird at apex,
wings still beating but the body motionless,
gravity and lift in perfect,
temporary truce,
the way opposite poles hold their distance
before flipping: positive to negative,
attraction to repulsion,
the intimate dance of forces that cannot coexist yet cannot part.
What lives in that in-between?
Not emptiness but potential,
the loaded pause, the held note,
the moment when everything that will be hovers like breath before the yes.
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