Love always enters later than you want.
Often, just moments after you’ve given up
All hope of it ever arriving.
Our desire is such
That the waiting becomes a constant, vicious ache
Which ceases to desist
Only with our consciousness
When we’re conked out in bed,
Or in those fleeting moments
When we’re so enfolded in a task or a twinkle of joy
That the unrelenting obsession with what we lack
Hangs temporarily suspended …
… Until we choose to once again
Detach ourselves from sanity
Through the insidious lie that worry and fear and obsession
Will somehow bring us what we long for
(Or at least minimize our disappointment if our Love fails
To manifest when we think they should).
The truth is that no one really knows
How, when or why two souls collide when they do;
It is magic, alchemy
At times, even sorcery
(Or, so it seems when the love is unrequited, anyway).
How to thrive, then,
In the interval?
(For that’s all this waiting really is – a space between Acts).
I have learned that the fastest way
To hurry along the next part of the story
Is not to stay in your seat
And desperately will the curtains to open,
But to make the very most of this reprieve:
Stretch your legs,
Get some air,
Take a leak,
Brave the bar
Whatever feels like the most satiating use of this time.
And, before you know it,
The announcement will come:
“Love Is Here!”
“Please take your seat!”
“But, I’m not ready!”
You’ll find yourself protesting as you pull up your pants,
“I need two more minutes!”
Isn’t it funny
How the very things
That seem to take a lifetime to arrive
Come out of nowhere
The moment we take our eyes off the prize?
I’D LOVE TO HEAR FROM YOU:
In your experience, have the things you’ve really wanted in life taken longer than you hoped to show up?
How did you cope in the meantime?