Til Then

At times your life is simply one of waiting. Sometimes you’ve got to be practical, patient, pragmatic, holding onto your trump cards until a later date. You yearn to be free, unrestrained, galloping through the dust at red dusk like wild horses on the plain. But the fruits that you desire must be allowed to ripen on distant limbs, far beyond immediate reach. You know that they are there, swelling with potential. You know that the time will come when the seeds that you have planted will bear an abundance in the future. You can smell it in the air.

But for now you must wait, confined to the present, to innumerable nights spent without social stimulus. For now you must stockpile your energy and hoard your inner light. You exist and move somewhere deep within, beyond immediate definition, unknowable but to the closest and farthest from you. The time will come, when the background shifts, the contexts transform, and for a space of time, again, you will shine.

I will wait til the time comes to exist momentarily in my fullest potential, like a track runner training endlessly for a few brief seconds of flight on the day of the meet.

Author: manderson

I live in NYC.

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