The Endless Wait

 

There is no end to waiting in this life;

It stretches far beyond the fading line,

Wearing the quiet smile that conquers strife,

A gentle spark that makes the darkness shine.

Perhaps it is fate’s gentle, sweet deceit,

To warm the weary heart when night is deep,

With soft rays of tomorrow incomplete,

Promising truths the quiet soul can keep.

We wait for love, for safety in the cold,

For one kind hand to reach across the space,

To understand the stories left untold,

And wipe the subtle shadows from our face.

The thirsty rainbird waits upon the bough,

While tiny seeds sleep deep beneath the sand,

Trusting a sky they cannot see right now,

To bring the rain and blossom on the land.

My soul, too, waits for its own hidden birth,

To break the stillness of a darkened room;

Though ages pass and wander through the earth,

Every long night awaits a morning bloom.

Our parents waited for us long ago,

Before we ever knew or spoke their names;

Now in our quiet hours, we seek to know

The warmth that lingers in those ancient flames.

We wait for those who left without goodbye,

Knowing their path may never cross our own,

Yet stubborn hope refuses now to die,

And keeps a vigil for the seed that's sown.

Even grand Time, magician in the dark,

Who wears an invisible clock upon his wrist,

Moves only where a waiting soul leaves mark,

Through lingering shadows and through morning mist.

The quiet seasons wait their turn to rise,

The patient winds await the coming storm,

The waiting earth looks up at changing skies,

Enduring frost to let the spring reform.

Perhaps this life is not the final shore,

Nor destination where our journeys cease,

But courage to keep waiting evermore,

Until our hope becomes a home of peace.