if I blink
will it take me there?
to the train tracks
below the wind
I ask questions that sometimes I know the answer to. I ask them for the mere reason that the act itself might change the outcome. It's the child in me not wanting to grow up or take no for an answer.
Yes I am falling once again. Maybe not at the man that you are but at the thought of someone being there. Of you possessing traits of the weary traveler that my heart patiently waits for. At the patio this heart has been sitting, and longing for someone to open the gate.
You appeared and held on to the gate, I look up. I see you standing there, behind you a river with waves of hope, a blue & white rubber boat and paddles. After a few exchanges you fell silent. No words not even the slightest movement. Should I move forward, take your hand and usher you in? Or better yet, I wait for you to take that step forward or for you to stretch your hand out to signal me near. This is not the first time there is a man at the gate. By now I know that He sends out messengers to teach me to know the difference between desperation and when it is time. So till you do I shall be thankful of the shadow of who you could be.
I do not suffer because of your presence but instead I make you an inspiration of how it feels when my weary traveler pushes the gate open and says I am home.
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