Patience
Need these tales be told?
Need the world read my deeds?
Need i share?
Rhetorics from a fool to another.
Mortals know not.
Only HIM is informed,
We are yet unformed.
Are we there yet?.
i ask the driver of life's wagon.
Like Ice cube,
i'm panicky.
Hoping for the best,
but expecting surprises.
Its title,
i know not even,
but its premiere,
i painfully yearn.
'There's not much to be told'
So goes the story's moral.
Even in this regard,
patience is the advice.
Who am i to fight the elements?
Who am i to claim to know?
Its not yet my day to share,
Its not yet my hour to tell.
Once again,
Patience,
my curse, my compass.
.
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