End

And now I am sitting on the other side
and waiting,
as if waiting was akin
to digging my feet into the ground,
and that in doing so
I could turn today into 
once before
and start from then,
over,
and live inside each minute
knowing each one
would build hours
that would shape
who I was bound to become
in the days after those 
I was trying to dig holes
down into
so my feet would have a place to rest
and so I would have the time
to come to terms with what I already knew.
That the days had already become my past
and I was living inside a ghost,
floating between worlds
that neither started or ended
where the others began.