Waiting

They say that anticipation is the purest form of pleasure; that it is within the waiting that our senses are heightened to levels unbeknownst to us. That in the 'morrows and 'morrows we find the answers to the now.

They say.

And so it is, another fleeting moment sent wondering about the what ifs. Questioning the value of all that has come before and begging to future to show that which is to come. Clearly, concisely and without further adieu.. And so I beg, and plead with myself to go forward with patience.

Sometimes, I astound myself with my thoughts. The fact that I create a world out of mut and mud which no one is privy to but myself. Even then I create a cage and board it up allowing little light to seep through. Its within this minds cage that my thoughts are free to encompass me, create something from nothing and allow the future to be clear.

But what of when I realize that those thoughts are blurring with my reality? That the day has come when I no longer have the sanctuary of anticipation, but rather the dismal truth of the now. What of then? How will i bridge the worlds which I live in and amongst?

And to think, he could be thinking of me to.

But why bother with these thoughts, because in my mind they are so much sweater. So much cooler, so much fancier. The questions are answered and the endings can be rewritten a million times.

And so I wait a million seconds before i react, waiting for your million seconds to react.

And so they shall, and I will wait, anticipate a new beginning.