Flux

I am no longer young.
I am not yet old.
I am this in between
This state of change
A force, a catalyst
I know what I am
But not so much in words
By rather, in sensation
In thought
In concept
In graceless mutability
At the precipice of becoming
On the cusp of having been
In the quiet moment before sunrise
In the still of a windless pond
I float amidst absolutes
I am occasionally wanted
Sought and pursued
But rarely kept
How does one dance with the ethereal
The amorphous, the gossamer
You cannot affix
To Flux