the commas

i love the commas left un-followed
the blank pages with potential,
with invisible words written in invisible ink, invisible thoughts not even dreamed
what's next when the cursor pauses,
when it blinks and winks
and throbs in time to your heartbeat?
what do you say when the music pauses,
when life holds a stop sign up in front of its chest...
how do you say
what needs to be said?
how do you see
what's going to happen next?
you're vivaciously aware
yet blissfully ignorant
of what's going on
and your next move,
your entire life,
is held in that pause between blinks, between brushstrokes,
between the breaths that come at the commas.
it's as if you're waiting,
suspended,
beautifully,
gracefully,
curled upon the air,
drifting,
falling,
flying,
rising,
amazingly positioned
as you.
you're a work-in-progress,
and that is all you need to know
because it is all you'll ever be,
as you dance in the spaces,
the little crescent moons
that hang on the edges of words.