The Waiting
October 24th 2007 06:24
The hands of time move silently round the poker faced clock on the wall
Seconds die, tick, tick, tick.
A Blowfly buzzes loudly let in by some thoughtless soul, it busy in its random, confusing way.
People float in, seeking help, seeking solace, seeking redemption from their many cares and woes.
Their silent tears awash, they flow, flow, flow.
We are all the same, we are all different, set apart by things seen and unseen, felt or not.
As we wait, wait, wait, I watch a child screaming in defiance of his mother,
she shushing him to be quiet.
A black man sits in the white mans world, fight hard to keep his dignity,
in the face of our capable ignorance.
A druggie stoned, at war with the world, at war with himself, chemical war.
Together we wait, for something that never fails to come.
Maliciously, ticking off the seconds, counting our individual lives down to the end.
Our mortality bleeds out with every passing sweep, every moment gone, bittersweet.
The hands of time move silently round the poker faced clock on the wall.
Seconds die, tick, tick, tick.
A Blowfly buzzes loudly let in by some thoughtless soul, it busy in its random, confusing way.
People float in, seeking help, seeking solace, seeking redemption from their many cares and woes.
Their silent tears awash, they flow, flow, flow.
We are all the same, we are all different, set apart by things seen and unseen, felt or not.
As we wait, wait, wait, I watch a child screaming in defiance of his mother,
she shushing him to be quiet.
A black man sits in the white mans world, fight hard to keep his dignity,
A druggie stoned, at war with the world, at war with himself, chemical war.
Together we wait, for something that never fails to come.
Maliciously, ticking off the seconds, counting our individual lives down to the end.
Our mortality bleeds out with every passing sweep, every moment gone, bittersweet.
The hands of time move silently round the poker faced clock on the wall.
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