Your wait time is approximately 30 minutes.
I moan; the music is pleasant enough–
piano riffs in the background accompany me
as I move about the house.
Thirty minutes grows like the puddle
left from a leaking pipe.
I wonder–do I have time for this right now?
Is the wait truly worth it?
It comes to me that I’ve misjudged forever,
timing my days by my own clock,
limiting the space with earth-bound ideas.
What is 30 minutes in an eon?
a nano-blink on the radar,
a sight gone missing in
the grand scheme of things.
No, thirty minutes is NOT forever.
We were made for much, much more.