The word itself sounds like an exhaled breath; a moment-between-moments before we inhale and keep living.
It is the moment when Sisyphus–at last reaching the top of the hill–pauses for breath. And the moment that his boulder teeters at the edge but has not yet rolled back down the hill.
There’s not much in the sound of the thing.
You might say it’s barely a word at all.
And what good is a moment-between-moments…
If the boulder’s still waiting to fall?
Does the Universe pause between breaths? Not yet–the Universe is yet to finish its very first exhalation.
We are borne forth on the tide of space-time and if the Universe does not yet pause to take a breath, perhaps it is our job to do so.
The moment between breaths. A moment of singular clarity. A moment before the decision is made to keep going.
Just a moment.