Waiting

“What rough beast, it’s hour come ‘round at last,

slouches towards Bethlehem to be born?”  Yeats

Waiting for a poem.

Waiting for the end of the world.

Waiting for the Golden Age.

Waiting for 3I/Atlas to be revealed

as soft disclosure.

Waiting for the Bus.

Waiting for tribunals.

Intense waiting,

provocative waiting,

pregnant waiting,

like waiting for D Day,

like waiting for Deus Ex Machina,

like waiting for Christmas when 

you were a kid.

So much seems to be happening.

Draw your own conclusions, but

conclusions are what I’m waiting for.

On the edge of my seat waiting.

If it was a movie, perhaps I’d enjoy it.

Maybe it is, but I’ve never been

in a movie before…

it makes me nervous.

If I had a part to play in it,

I’d feel more involved.

I’m just a spectator waiting,

under a volcano,

for it to blow.