in the waiting

Photo by Joshua Sortino on Unsplash

the weight of it is too much sometimes,
reaching across that abyss to connect now and then —

the space between is a most uncomfortable place.

it is a labor to bear witness to our future,
to make something of it
so we suffer its birth with a stoic face.

but the time passes either way —
why not wild eyed and dancing?

Thanks for reading. Please clap, follow me or enjoy another poem.
🐝 beth