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Waiting For The Right Time

up all night too
i wrote something too personal for you
i could not find
the best metaphor for it
and so
i went literally
on the
consonants of my
grappling

the following morning
i look for
beauty

there is none
and so i deleted it

there is no sense
of the divine

there is only that
mundane grasshopper

singing under the sun
nothing about the sacrifices of the ants

or the redeeming quality
of the turtle

i am not impressed at all
about what i am

i am waiting for the right time
to find the reason why i must

open and bloom
why i should not take the pain some more

in the tightness of my
bud.

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