the world waits

It comes to me sometimes at dusk

In startling clarity 

Shaken from seat

Or grabbed by my neck 

Set on my feet

It is almost night and it is time

I know it is

If I wait one second it could be too late

It could be morning

It could be the moment has passed me by 

I know then how quickly my youth might leave me behind

How precious the days are—

The old, the young and the leaving

I know how I need to run

Like a dog let loose in a wide open field

For the pure pleasure of it

I know how it feels to want to set off 

Into the night

Into the woods

Into a party where no one knows your name

Is this a book?

Who said it couldn't be? 

Is this not a story?

Are we not all?

Are we not free to be free 

To remember what it feels like

To be

I remember, like a nightmare from your childhood

Stepped out of the dark right in front of your face

The buzz of an adrenaline pumping in your veins

A thrill of terror, of potential you thought you'd outgrown

How easy it is to romanticize a life out here

The still dusk, full of creatures and hope and fear

The scent of the smoke still clinging to your hair

The scent of hay fresh and boozy on the air

What could be more urgent?

The world waits

To be cut open with a knife 

— olivia gwyn