Waiting

I see her with my own fearful gaze, looking back at me,

a little puzzled, a little suspicious.

I stand alone at this empty terminal, with no one else,

but her. Who is she? I wonder.

But I have wondered. What does she know?

I thought I knew, the meaning behind her name.

But that has all vanished through time, lost in

empty spaces. I count the hours. I wait.

I wait to be taken, with no destination in mind,

no way up from these grounds. I wait.

She blinks and waits. She is waiting for me.

Waiting, waiting! I waited in my yesterdays!

I still wait to be remembered. I am slowly forgetting

my own beginnings. There is no time left.

Each step I take brings gusts of unexpected winds.

I do not understand these signs, nor the arrows pointing

at me; not one bears my name.

She continues to gaze. How do I tell her I am lost?

I look at her face. I still see the blossoms of youth –

life has not yet etched its scars.

Beneath my surface, I am bare and cold, like these grounds

I stand on. There is no destination waiting for me.

There is no love calling my name.

I fell for too much, too many. I must choose between

fire and words. I cannot wait anymore.

I look at her once again. I see my reflection on broken

glass, scattered all along these empty tracks.

There is still time, she tells me, to play with words.

to run through fire, to leave a trail to remember.

There is time to be remembered. Do not count the hours,

nor wait for a train that will never arrive. There is still time –

do not wait any longer!

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