Sitting and waiting.
Sitting.
Waiting.
Does that sum it up?
Does that sum it all up?
Is that all it is?
I sit.
I wait.
No movement.
No action.
And still life passes—the fabric in which I sit and wait changes.
I do nothing and it changes.
And it moves around me.
Transporting me towards the end.
I'm carried by change down this slope.
Yes, a slope.
A gradient that just gets steeper.
And I sit and I wait.
