WAITING
I would not have learned how soil
works were I not a worm. One must
always look on the bright side of things.
The curvature of the Earth? I would
not have learned of that had I not
been a Portuguese sailor on the wild
and open sea. Nor an astronaut, now
viewing the same from the Moon?
Every item of what we live is
precious. Or should become so.
As I lie awake at night, awaiting
my sleep, I think of a thousand
things. The sound of a flutter,
must that always mean a fly?
Something on the ceiling, now
becoming atrocious to me?
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