Wait
“You will hardly know who I am or what I mean,
But I shall be good health to you nevertheless,
And filter and fibre your blood.
Failing to fetch me at first keep encouraged,
Missing me one place search another,
I stop somewhere waiting for you.”
― Walt Whitman, Song of Myself
But I shall be good health to you nevertheless,
And filter and fibre your blood.
Failing to fetch me at first keep encouraged,
Missing me one place search another,
I stop somewhere waiting for you.”
― Walt Whitman, Song of Myself
I find that I spend a great deal of time waiting. Waiting at the doctor's office, or on the bus on my way to the doctor. Waiting for the right moment to take a photo. Waiting for something or someone to present themselves and finding that the waiting is the thing itself. We all do it. Often in silence or encased in a bubble of our own little worlds created by devices that insulate us from the waiting. Cocooned in an armor of waiting. Always the waiting.