to the baby, and its babies:
your birth,
and the woman waiting for you;
they are waiting.
everyone, is waiting.
time, is waiting.
the sea, is waiting.
elephants, are waiting.
the cukes in the vat are waiting to be pickled..
the pickles are waiting to be traded for cash.
to become their own weight in gold.
and the money, is waiting to be buried back into the earth, as the earth sits in its own sort of waiting,
knowing, that
even the end is waiting.
while nothing also waits for anything else besides the end.