Not a major choice, like career or marriage,
but the more urgent, though often ignored, option
of what to do this very next moment.
I wonder if it makes a difference
if I decide to clean, walk, write, draw, dance,
or go outside and simply
let the sun massage my body, tame my thoughts
with heat that warms the earth,
to harmonize the cosmos.
What's the best I can do
with my next fragment of time?
Do I fill it to fullness
with action that stirs life
or leave it empty,
a space from which breath is exhaled?
Will my choice affect the world?
or only me? or no One?
I chose to write
with the uncertainty inherent in every moment,
but with the conviction that my moment
is precious, a gem
in which I am embedded.
(For Poets United.)