Now is not the moment;
The moment is now,
One moment, please
That moment of ecstasy
Still yet to come.

Your silence is so eloquent
Articulating the ambivalence
Inherent in you and I
A continuing discourse
On our deferred sensuality
My only mistake
Is every word
That I ever said
Ensnaring me in your games
But now I will make a play
Do you refuse to act?
No now is not the moment
But the moment is now
We stop;
                  Pause for the moment
Soon the pause
Fills our mouths
Then the room
Rapidly expanding
Blotting out the sun
It penetrates further
Still and deeper
Into the soft core
Of the universe;
Now there is nothing
Between us but
This pause.

Eventually at some,
As yet unidentified, 
Point in time
Our mouths will open
Our lips will shape
The words needed
To break this silence
But now is not
That moment;
The moment is now,
Now is
             Just a moment.



31 thoughts on “Pause

  1. Ahh, some pauses/silences speak louder than any spoken words could. It made me think….is there ever really a now? For many, now is thinking about the future and being so heavily influenced by the past at once. Just a moment…is a million moments piled up and a million more to come. No pressure, lol.

    Liked by 1 person

    1. No pressure. This was influenced by 18th Century libertine literature, which, wait for it, I posted about. I will send you the link. I agree the present moment is anticipation of the next and turns into the past in the very next instance.

      Liked by 1 person

      1. Along with a very sweet tooth I share with the Marquis De Sade a quasi-mystical obsession with numbers. Certain numbers that have cropped up recently…
        The Moment
        diderot,jane austen,philosophy in the boudoir,ancien regime,laclos,cynicism,romanticism,pleasure,eroticism,dangerous liasions,libertine,voltaire,crebillon fils,the indiscreet jewels,lust,corruption,decadence,marquis de sade,the wayward heart and head,gothic,seduction,louis xv,baroque,love,the sofa


  2. Mr. Cake, I love the circular flow of this, while everything spirals around elements of a sort of surreal concoction of time, such as the now, the moment, and the pause. Quite delightful, I enjoyed this very much. Does the truest of love really ever need to use any words? Excellent artwork by Toyen, her work complements your poem so nicely.

    Liked by 1 person

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