Falling Open

I see

What isn't there and what might be:

All the pages falling open.

Out of my grasp

The future floods my fingers:

The blood that binds the bone

For us a given, unforgiving known.

(All I've known unknowing)

Although I'm stumbling onward on the words

The script is always clasped

Within my hand, encrypted.

(Now I see)

A loosening grip,

A palm asweat from clenching...

The binding's ripped, leaves fluttering to the floor.

The book slips through my fingers,

All the pages falling open.