The wait kills the man;
A necessary death nonetheless,
Leaving him unanswered,
Sensationally demised.
Knees buckled, hands firmly pressed;
Head resting on Sovereign’s breast.
Prayers whispered in uncertainty,
Calmly neutralized.
The wait appears to be a far voyage at sea
Where wind and wave rebut willingly;
The deep ready to drown discernment,
Significantly ill-advised.
One whimsical decision can create a new route;
A fool’s destination is the Isle of Doubt.
But the wait leaves one wanting,
Overwhelmingly unsatisfied.
If only one could travel through time,
This wait would be preventable;
All would be sure and fully comprehendible,
Thoroughly realized.
The unknown torments an impatient man at night;
A restless thought taking flight, but nowhere to land.
Waiting for wisdom to take his hand,
Calmly terrified.
Silence remains, but no rest…
The wait kills the man;
A necessary yet enduring distraction,
Leaving him famished for further instruction,
Wholly discombobulated.
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
I would like to translate this poem