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Michael McGuire
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Between Wanting and Waiting
As the static masses itch; the Earth engine is warming for war,
This ain't-seen-nothing-yet-bias lubricates the gold mine,
Don't know how to say what all that silence just lets be,
We are the something always and only becoming what we'll never be,
Never so sure that now is happening or if it did in the when,
Rust and fermentation; river-ready and always waiting like a virus.
This perpetual aching is of itself some kind of shadow-healing,
The children of the revolution are now the servants of sundown,
Am I a oneness that defies all deities by my own light's mercy,
I feel I could take this fortress down by the sheer weight of the wanted,
But time snakes thru wanting and waiting like it's the new Eden,
And leaves us somewhere that is never quite here and almost there.
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