Ambiguity burns

This moment has
dramatic space,
unexpected shifts
and pivots like
a waltzing sentry
on the walls
of memory. Things
as they are and as
they were
are passing in, and
things are passing out -
and best of all these things
is ending, which
has all the feel
of midair, and
of doubt.

We hang suspending
with a twinge of hope.
Optimistic melancholy. This
is nostalgia
kept in now.
So let us

maybe not

be jolly.
It
will all
turn out
somehow.

And nope,
it shall not be
nor have been
folly.