Upon Waiting

Upon Waiting

Is there any rhyme upon waiting -

Or,  is it merely a word that bides

With halting hands that caress

Away at the dilettante’s sides

Revealing naked degrees of undress

And too, the covers of a stillness.

Is there poetry in a solitary  life –

Where sentiments stake the heart

Into a motionless stay

While limbs seduce their part

And the sunlight and moonlight of each day

Are dismissed to unravel in fray.

Is the next moment to be:  an expectation –

That fulfills a mind perched on emptiness

Ready to succumb unto the dimming light

Or, is the hesitation more a randomness

That propels one to take a leap of flight

Back to the mysteries of nothingness.