The Waiting Place

On a quiet morning in the beautiful etherea of songbirds and oxygen forgotten in our time, i sit. i wait.

I wait for life to fill these dry veins
I wait for death to wash it all away
I wait for wealth to bring pleasure rather than pain
I wait for poverty to humble; to lay

I wait for love to fill me inside
I wait for empathy the surest affection
I wait for grace to come an abide
I wait for humility in my many correction

I wait because I can't not,
I wait because I can
I wait as if i hope to forestall
this fear-laden coming of man