If I dream of inaction…
I stand in a time before time
Where all possibility lays over
A field of bristling deep white
And all the words that are unwritten
Outreach every star ever stitched.
Sometimes, I picture in that absence
All things waiting to be connected
To one continuous present;
Where those not yet born
And those fully lived
Exist together side by side.
Were I then to write an action
I would be drawn by narrow pleasure
Into a new but diminishing realm.