my new ink :))
waiting.
people used to tell me
that fun is in the waiting
and when the waiting’s over
everything’s over.
people used to tell me
a lot of great and beautiful things
like the sun’s effulgence
is fixed and eternal
and that every downpour
is neither pain nor sorrow
but that of a new born’s—
life and existence.
and how wrong were they?
the sun would later die;
wilted and withered
the flowers would mourn.
the angry downpour
had already drowned
the dog-tired wagging
of ephemeral vicissitude.
and how wrong were they?
waiting’s such a shame.
all efforts in vain.
