Tardiness is never late
It seems your plans were born to wait
Inside a room where slowly reads,
The master of rare punctuality

I wake up before the rain
If I am programmed by the fire
The droplets of passion compelling me to free myself from countless
dreams
To gaze upon a world
asleep

Our beloved belongings
Clutter to someone else
Without us no trace of the memories
We carry with us every day
Through the noise we handle -
And that handles us
Every so slowly into a new noon
Where another clock will be ticking, pulsing, waiting...
In a room with a door, with a plaque with a name
Our name
Our room
Our space to store little gesture, subtle things
That mean something only to us
Like a secret language
Mistaken, too often, by its apparent randomness
Or lack of relevancy
However, random they are not
And irrelevant merely as much as we are

Patience will teach you how to bear time
To not remain restless
To counter your fears

Not letting every second eat away at your heart
Its fragile frame colapsing under
A merciless layer of blackened dust, broken trust

Not allowing every memory to recoil in remorse and regret
Their paper-like state nearly giving in due to
An unforgiving pool of salt water drenching
The last smile that's left in your eyes

No!
If anything, you ought to know
It's a fact you need to smile for yourself
To be alive for yourself
To dream for yourself and fulfill those dreams
Without any adue or sealed affirmation
From another's lips...