Continuance

The sun is moving up the wall
alerting me to some sort of ritual
or new beginning that I can’t quite comprehend
because at this moment, the sun isn’t telling me to wake up
(“Get up, see the world!”)
But instead, it is telling me to savour and enjoy this moment.
This moment is being stitched together
with the time you gave me yesterday,
and the time the world is giving me today
and it moves so quickly that I want to say
“Slow down sun!”
but it keeps moving up.
Passing my window.
Covering my wall with shadows that change in seconds.
Mine. Plastered on the side of the piano
gun to my head
and now, I can see
that the time you sent me yesterday
is shattered on the floor,
waiting for my feet to walk across,
splintering my skin
showing me how quickly things can change
and I know you worry, too
about the glass between us
because we know we will bleed
no matter how carefully we pick it up
and there is nothing but time before us
and maybe,
if we’re patient,
maybe the sun will take its time,
tomorrow.