in an instant
out of the bounds.
over the ridge
under the kept grass.
through a stain glass
around the other side.
after the rain comes
before the final howl.
in between, we suffer
but suffering, if endured,
produces perseverance.
then the character, then the hope.
the constant hope
as we speed through space,
sleeping and in worry,
our significance hangs,
teetering on a balance beam.
awkward and unsure, it hangs.
harlot's eyes, wanting
another day in her life.
