Patience is a virtue,
I know this too well.
Punctuality, though,
Is what screws me over.

In a place where it’s the norm to be late,
I find myself turning up on time.
Except I haven’t,
I was born into the wrong century.

Humility is a diversion,
A petting of the ego.
Slowly stroking gently,
Like a coat of silk.

You’re all cocooned,
I am the butterfly that emerged,
Fearless into the light;
You are but a shell.

I am a patient in this waiting room,
Waiting for my name to be called,
For my deeds to be accounted,
For my sins to be forgiven.
So I may enter the garden,
Under which rivers flow,
Seat myself upon a cloud,
And take harp lessons.


2 Responses to “Patient”
  1. Me-shak says:

    Nice 🙂

    Ado, when you taking the guitar? Lemme know.


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