The Quiet Between

The rain finds its rhythm in absence, each droplet a small forgetting, pooling where the earth remembers every season it has held.

Between the falling and the wet, there lives a breath— that moment when the world turns and nothing yet has landed.

I've learned to live there, in the pause between heartbeats, where light dissolves into itself and time becomes transparent.

The sky doesn't ask us to witness, only to stand beneath it, palms open, catching what was meant to pass through anyway.