Certainty can be
Just as terrorizing
As uncertainty.

What is finally more
Fearful, the inevitability
Of total closure
Or
The indeterminacy
Of total openness?

Don’t even speak to me of
A middle ground.

The truth has never abode
in any middle
Any center.
Never. Not ever.

Only in the reaches.
Where outstretching is the end
The beginning of arms, life.

Only there, and sporadically
Like a temperamental epiphany or
A fledgling tropical storm
That dreams of hurricaning

Only there
Does truth sometimes moan
A voice on the wind
Blowing wherever it wills.

Except the center.
It’s always silent there.
Motion is
Unwelcome.

The place of perpetual waiting
Where certainty and propriety never
End.
Where no tear is ever wiped
Away.

Avoid the center, my friend. It hates
Change.
For all who wait to change
Wait for eternity.

And eternity dawns
At the edges.