still waiting...

perhaps it is in preparation for the coming season of advent {or just the nature of life itself}, but i have been drawn to and seemingly drawn by all things that have to do with waiting. so, it could only be fitting that tonight, as i prepared to shut down the computer and head to bed, did i stumble across a Rilke poem on this very subject, called the wait. enjoy.

it is life in slow motion,
it's the heart in reverse,
it's a hope-and-a-half:
too much and too little at once.

it's a train that suddenly
stops with no station around,
and we can hear the cricket,
and, leaning out the carriage

door, we vainly contemplate
a wind we feel that stirs
the blooming meadows, the meadows
made imaginary by this stop.

translated by A. Poulin