Who knows, as i sit in an anxious state
waiting for Godot; hoping they never show,
like a sparkle in the glass, asking me if i care to go?
I will deny its invitation —to stay and enjoy the sparkle,
as all sparkles go.
Who Knows as i move in trepidation,
waiting for the fulfillment of my day?
Afraid to recognize it when it is here.
So i deny its invitation —to listen as it fades,
rolls, descends, and disappears.
Who knows the mysteries attributed
to the ground i stand on?
If traveled, i will have accepted its maze,
if understood —i will have accepted its direction.
Who can remember,
that we can go through the eye of a needle
with the sparkle of a moment?
i believe, only in the beholder’s mind
and conscience, threaded within our soul.