Not of a cliff - nothing sooo dramatic. ;-) But of something unseen, something I can f-e-e-l more than name. It hums beneath my skin, a quiet, insistent pulse. The next step.
The shift.
The change I know is coming.
And yet, I don’t move.
Not yet.
Because this moment (the pause) is its own kind of gravity. Holding me here. Making me wait.
Is it fear… ? Maybe. But aren’t fear and instinct (distant) cousins, and haven’t I learned to listen before I leap? Sometimes the body knows what the mind refuses to admit: You’re not ready. Not yet.
Or maybe, just maybe… it’s the world that isn’t ready for me.
So I stay here a moment longer, my toes curled over the edge of what’s next, tasting the air, feeling the weight of possibility pressing against me.
And when I move—because I WILL move—it won’t be a stumble.
It will be a choice!
Tell me, dear Writer, have you ever felt it? The moment before everything changes? And when the time comes, will you take a leap of faith?
