Here in the late night hour I sit, I sit and wait for something;
Something that tolls for me, something that’s coming,
The funny thing is I don’t know if I am ready.
After all who is ready for their future, the word in itself is uncertainty;
And within that ambiguity lies everything you could realize;
Fear, hope, anxiety, assurance, dread, peace they all coexist;
Even though they are in opposition they’re in utter harmony,
Harmony until you or I reach that moment.
And without exception those moments become polarized;
It bewilders me to begin to understand,
How do these contrary forces seem to synchronize?
Until that juncture of truth and the future is unraveled into past.
Present is a concept reserved for the faint;
Time can be cruel temptress that commands constant attention.
She serves to destroy the dichotomy of what’s to come,
And create what was.
Each moment is a chronological transaction,
Each of us gets a predestined number;
Be sure to get your hours
No!, your minutes, your seconds worth…. … .. .