On Edge

I stand at the edge
of the forest,
where trees
surrender
abruptly
to field;

low, green mounds
of varied hue
provide
uninterrupted vision
for the sky’s cold,
grey observation.

No sound,
no movement;
all of life is waiting
for the dream to become real.

Reaching out of shadows
my arm begins to glow.
My body follows,
ghostly white;
almost phosphorescent.

Still no sound
and in that hushed,
slanted light,
I’m afraid to breathe.

Fear of what it means
to emerge
from the forest gloom
of massive trees.

Fully lit,
I blink
silence
into a cacophony
of sound;

I shatter
into pieces,
small as
rays of light.