The Hypocrite Walrus

Thursday, April 08, 2010

To give me hope with a stab in my back, she said to me, "it is like sand in my hands"

In the end,

is all we do

Pursuing or
giving up,
laying there or
getting up

We choose,
we have choices

But what we do
is wait

Waiting for the rain to fall
or the rain to stop
waiting for someone to come
or someone not to go

Waiting for the season to change
or the inevitable end
waiting for the dawn to break
or the night to come

Waiting for the phone to ring
or the love to come
Waiting for the pain to go
waiting for a yes or a no

And the waiting can
be endless
or as short as
the laziest
blink of an eye

The outcome
is a coin
and falling
on the hand
of a stranger

It all
tends to slip

Like time,
and you.