Sitting quietly
Thinking of a world
Of immortal truth
And beauty
Waiting for the light
To change.

The guy in front is asleep
Or so it seems as green
From red stays steady.
No trace of response
Or movement of
Any kind.

Two cars back impatient
Angry honking seems
Remote like where
Is that coming
From? The guy right
Behind is waiting.

Time seems to suspend
Itself as precious
Seconds stolen seep
Along like honey
Gathering
Weight to fall.

Patience takes patience
And courage too
To wait in knowing
That to all comes
The ultimate wake-up
Of time to move.

After all, where are
We going? To the
Next red light, stop
Sign, intractable
Situation, where
Again we wait and wait.

What's the rush?
Who's ever gotten
Anywhere really?
Interruptions rule
Everything, so are
There really any?

Those seconds imposed
On us by hesitation
Or loss of control
Of our moment-to-
Moment timetables
Are sacral prizes.

Suddenly, we are
In the arms of chance
Captive to consequence
We do not command.
Waiting for another
To arouse.

The notions of
All mankind stir
Within us, and
We feel what
It is to be both
Cause and effect.

We've all been there
In that middle place
Unphased in time
Away on a slumbering
Dream of inattention
To details at hand.

And we've all had the
Rude awakening,
The blast interruptus
Of reverie, the sudden
Imposition of
Reality.

Is that what must be?
Should we all press
Into the loosened
Consciousness of another
And whack each other
Back to actual?

Or is it better to wait
And see? To enjoy another's
Harmless, daydream disarray
And wish it were us
So able to woolgather
In the midst of a day?

Suddenly, we're moving again.
Traffic jostling and
Signalling every which way.
Who hesitated? Who
Knows? Busy won over
The muse's waylay.

01/17/2006

Posted on 01/17/2006
Copyright © 2026 W. Mahlon Purdin