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i’m waiting with patience

for a different death.

transformation will happen

by itself (when it has to )

and i’ll step into a new birth of realization.

yes, i’m waiting to be awakened.

love, hate, mirth, melancholy,

sympathy, nullity, fear, ecstasy

(all my entrails, my flesh,

bones and my subtlest marrow)

let me live them, and relive them always

with acceptance, friendliness and witnessing eyes

so that i’ll be able to ease myself, be centered

and reach exactly where my real being is.

taking my time

i'm waiting for my facades to fade,

my naked innocence to revive

and my inmost voidness to flow out gushing

so that i'll be unchained

to live and leave as myself sans self

with access to my truest, cosmic being.

if i deserve, peace in me shall bloom. i’m just waiting.


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