a clearing

It’s not like
a passing
storm.
Or a cleft
in the forest.
It’s an opening
in the mind,
if that makes sense.
Not that it must,
you know.
To clear
is to evaporate
the dissonance.
Or to shove it
to
the
back row,
where
it is less
noisy.
For the time
being,
at least.
A calm
arrives.
A peace
prevails.
What is seen,
or,
better yet,
looked for,
is finally
appear-ant,
if not
apparent.
And is clung
to
and
honored.
Because
what is clear
for a moment
may not be so
in the next.
I hold my
breath.
It is all I have
to hold.
For now.