Threads

It happened six seconds from now on a Monday
The three thousandth year of our Lord
Upon a sunny spring day in May
One million and one possibilities flowed
Not any one more likely than another
All just threads waiting to be pulled
Hung from the loom of the infinite mother

The man running in the field
A woman turning a pot
A child of uncertain sex as of yet
Dreaming within the womb of another

These and three billion more
All with an uncertain six seconds of grace
Until whatever it might be happens to them all
A preserved moment frozen in place

But it always happens six seconds from now doesn't it
With all the uncertainty that that brings
The dangling options of eternity
A tantalizing spaghetti forest of strings