Waiting

Waiting on a darkened street corner
with only one spotlight.
And a faulty one at that.
Kinda cold here, kinda frigid.
But I'm just waiting.
I'm waiting for that awesome juxtiposition
that will likely blow my mind.
Rather like that actively faulty spotlight
on that dreary, empty stage.
No audience, save me.
Whomever wrote this play was not that good.
And the artistic director needs to
take a class in decor.
Kinda lonely here, kinda frightening.
Creeping headlights crawl forward.
The doors open but I shake my head.
I don't want to join in your little ride.
That will be a tough act to follow,
that driver's face.
I watch retreating red tail lamps
which fade into darkness.
Much like me.
Technically I am not here,
I am just waitng.
Waiting for the show to begin
on that dark, empty stage
with its broken spotlight.
The curtains are parted and there
is little original scenery.
Mostly some brown grass
and a few windblown pines.
It's drafty in here.
I don't think this show
is going to start any time soon.
I've been here for so long
I think I will go.
Oh, wait, here is someone.
He is coming downstage
and stepping into that spotlight
that doesn't work well.
Much like this play.
Now he is on the pavement.
I have been waiting a long while.
Keen on seeing this soloist
who will fulfill my deepest dream.
Come forth dark wanderer
and let me have it.
I will take it.
You do not perceive me.
You can not even know the maddness
of waiting.
Well, now you will know.
Now they all will.
"Follow me."
And so we do.
Into further darkness
away from the stage.
Take of me the fruit of the serpent
and become aware.
his eyes are darkening now.
He will not remember.
He will forget.
He will only feel.
Only feel and forget.
All is as it should be.

~Angus April 2010