Hard Stop

If it’s not
wind, or storm,
it may be meteor,
may be earthquake. 
May be 
downfall, may be
uprising;

all I know is that
today feels 
like it’s violently moving
while I am not,

that I’m
less than a second
from tumbling over

still believing I’ll be able
to somehow hover while
apocalypse is happening —
while underneath that,

knowing even more deeply
that I will fall
as all else falls;
earlier, farther, 
and harder than some,
later and softer than others,
but I will 
fall.  

Mid-fall, delusional
but happy,
almost levitating,
I believe I may yet fly
in spite of my fear of
that imminent hard landing —
in fact, it may be
that I fly
because I know
it’s coming.