Waiting for the Blink of an Eye.

Watching feels like waiting.

Waiting feels like sitting on the edge, looking for 

something to stand out among the mundane.

Mundane because what I am waiting for is

bigger than any of this.

We have heard whispers of what I am waiting for.

We have been told to watch the skies.

We have been told that we will wish for 

the mountains to roll over onto us.

I am there, waiting.

I have been watching for a decade and some years.

Grown anxious and learned patience.

I have been broken down and rebuilt.

I have rebelled; been dragged kicking and screaming

back to the place where peace can cover all sins.

Reformed into a new vessel.

Even though we have seen what it means for a generation to turn away.

Now I know what it feels like to yearn 

and pant for love, 

like a deer pants for water.

I am listening for the rocks to cry out.

Waiting for the people to turn back around

or... 

for the sky to shout.

Waiting for the blink of an eye.

Although I can not comprehend the the thought of 

heaven without them...

I am hoping for the one thing that will

leave my brothers behind.

I am willing but not able.