Eleventh Hour As It Passes

Coming suddenly, no thoughts follow.

A self-conscious dying: Grabbing for rescue. Finding resolution. Learning a lesson. Facing one's totality. Utter loss. Anxiety. Utter rest.

More of it, this dying, from a living vantage:

Running to the edge of the high board, springing with a breath and holding onto form. Sailing off it.

Seeing your friend the other side of the restaurant storefront glass and waiting that moment before you greet. The crystalized conversation where you each find the other, where everything makes sense.