I am strung across the stars,
a filament of many,
a thread of light
looped through every door.

In one world, I speak,
in another, I swallow my words.
One where I dance in the fire,
one where I run.

Each possibility hums
like distant thunder
in the fabric of now.
Each version flickers
in the space I do not see.

They are not lost,
only uncollapsed,
only waiting.

To look too closely
is to pin the moment down,
but to surrender
is to hear the whole symphony.

I reach for none
and learn to let go.
I do not have to choose,
because somewhere
in the tangle of what could be
I already am
true.