I, the midwife, the laborer, and the child

Before me, all of the unborn lie in wait

Behind me, all of the once born hold my head

I, the wind between worlds

Holding the bonds of time

The edges of which cut

like a sharp blade

into a clean edge.

You are born or you are not

You are dead or you are not

You are here or you are not

The canyon still comes to an edge,

one lip forever separated

from its partner now holding

worlds between worlds

and the space below them.

I, the time and the movement

You, the Here and the Now

the wait and see

Maybe the edge of change

won’t cut a canyon this time