This Hour is Holy
This hour,
not the one gone,
not the one to come,
This is the one that holds the fire.
It holds your breath,
your becoming,
Your one chance to touch the real.
All that matters lives here,
not in memory, not in dream,
but in the pulse behind your ribs,
in the light on the wall,
In the choice, you are about to make.
Forget regret.
Forget the fairy tale of tomorrow.
They’re both illusions.
But this moment,
this moment is made of flesh.
Drink it.
Stand inside it.
Let it mark you with its glory
and bruise you with its questions.
This is the altar.
This is the battlefield.
This is the jazz note at the end of the world.
This is the place where you become
what you were meant to be.
It only wants your fire,
Your breath,
Your truth,
There is no other door,
But NOW.