The moment you choose

There comes a time when you know
you're straddling
the stratosphere
and it's no longer a metaphor,
but real, hard fact

of your heart pulled
from end to end
between organic and elemental matter
and its happenings, and

you know this time
of the ancestral ringings
in your flesh and bone,
the marrow of your innings, the chance

you're given
now
to play, to spin, to curl
the thrust of your imagination

yonder all imaginings,
beyond all thought,
beyond the now

to rake in
all the past and present

in the roulette you never played
but knew
you were the ball in -

hammered, hit, bet on
by everyone's turning
to rest

into the moment
you choose.