I am waiting…like in a dream
as if waiting is all the dream has to offer
like waiting is the subject of waiting itself
like there is meaning and purpose in its sustaining
And the woodwork becomes the substance of such purpose
that like a light sworn to secrecy, despite my anguished whispers,
becomes a meeting – of objective and subjective patience
A doorway, a portal, and a dimension becoming apparent
without its stone and concrete life, but a Lego of the dream
that makes imagination and aspiration sublimely surreal
in a sudden corporeality that manifests every time it needs to!
This waiting, is like the spirit of God,
who alone waits interminably and eternally
for the orchard to grow outside his window
fully knowing the orchard is already rooted in the imagination of his soul
I tell the stones how real a life is
that speaks from the cores of the alleyways of memory
Then Mum is beside me, Dad is beside me
My pets are beside me, True Love is imminent in her immanence(!)
and every leaf of my ancestry!
That I begin to realise the vastness of my soul
in the intricate labyrinth of its embodiment
through the ages, where all that matters
is the knowledge that you have always had, in your patient waiting,
the fruit out of your tribulations that you were so painstakingly pursuing!
That there is no treachery that can sabotage you anymore
The treachery itself is its own saboteur!
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