this is not waiting

it is awaking

and choosing

to pick the dream up

to carry in my heart

each day

to feel what it is

to love

only to honour

what it is to love

to know the seasons

come and go

not by days marked

on the page

but by the transforming

of each phase 

into next

when the days of change

decide that they 

will come

and living does not follow

by how the earth

is dressed

but by the choice 

of every breath

to decide what whispers

it will give 

to decorate the sky

and so these breaths

are for the telling

of the heart

and nothing more

when the sun will set

or wake again to rise

this dream is transcendent 

of how the heavens

holds their light

and cannot be enslaved

by the linear illusion

that humans name

as time