I wait for joy. Again, this year, I wait.
I wake to see the chrysalis transluce
Some bits and bytes of sound and light combine
Shan’t hear complaints from one who’s oft so cold.
The end was not what I had expected.
measure the passing of our existence
Solitude is a state of mind.
the waiting gets old
“time” is beyond us.
the crooked made straight
we wait and wait…and…
How long can that caterpillar stay in chrysalis before it dies and can never emerge?
real friends “get it” – even when they don’t.