So much is in place.
so much lies waiting
for the correct moment.
The moment which, feared
is desired,
Becomes the moment which desired
is feared.
Discovery is at times
unequal to desire
or belief.
When did "when I grow up"
become now?
Life lies waiting
not breathless,
but immediate
and filled with
too many details.
When did the dream become
simply the correct paper
and signing here?
At a time
now too long past
the dreams crowded the day,
now the day crowds
the dreams into
nostalgia.
Sunday, May 17, 1998