Grammar of Waiting

Waiting is a kind of grammar— the pause between inhale and speaking, where possibility still wears all its faces.

The clock hands don't move toward anything; they move toward having moved, the past a path that rewrites itself each time we're not looking.

I keep my hands open to prove I'm not holding anything, but the light falls through anyway, and now I'm made of shadows I didn't plan to cast.

There is no before. There is only the moment you realize the before was always waiting to become the after.