I am the one who is
always waiting.
Always anticipating
for what is to come
or what may come.
Waiting to become
better,
bigger,
than who I feel that I am.
Stronger than what
I think that I am.
Never fully comfortable with,
never really secure in,
what is present in
the moment.
I wait with
this expectation that
there must always be more
than what there really is.
That I must be more
than what I am.
There sets a purpose,
an endeavor,
before me.
And then, once more,
there's another again.
I anticipate for each and every
opportunity and probability,
then I wait- once more-
for what's to follow.
It's the story of a life
that has an inevitable ending
but with no one
foreseen wrapped up conclusion.
And maybe,
I could see this as just
my adaptability and ability
for such impeccable growth.
Yet, while I wait,
here plays out
each sequence of my world
that races right on past me
before I can even savor
the pure fulfillment,
the true wholeness,
of just one single moment.
And how that precise moment,
in a single instant,
can be gone.
