What you do when you wait (reflections on waiting)
You sway with your mind, like rods in the wind.
You fill every space, every passage, every crevice of your mind with what you are supposed not to think about (and it is not a pink elephant).
You feel the burden of the clouds and behind them the face or the presence is escaping your gaze.
You breath.
You think. You think. You think.
You breath the wait you are waiting.
You close your eyes.
You stay. You stand.
You eschew.
You dry clothes and fold dry clothes.
You auscultate hauntingly the signs of what you are waiting for, like an haruspex without bowel.
You immagine possible worlds, overcoming your inability of accepting what is suspended. What is having birth from an act of trust.
You wait alone, even if you are accompanied.
You fathom the layers of your emotions like an explorer in the most obscure and never probed abyss.
You wait and a world is creating, blossoming and gritting.
After, when everything is done, you can smile. Maybe.
