One moment grows to hours
and the hours to weeks, months, years,
in the waiting for a happening
that doesn’t ere occur.
How and when does one believe
it’s just not meant to be
and put it in the archives
destined for the fire?
But not as when the poets were
gifted with wisdom, insight,
I find my mind and fingers numb
here in this air I breathe.
One day, one day, perhaps today
all who wait will close the door
and simply breathe without belief
that something waits beyond ~
and then, and then, what then?
It’s simply so that nothing’s there
so open up the door and breathe,
just breathe, that’s all, just breathe ~