The Waiting Room
Before the Breath admitted—
We dwelt—in Neighboring Mist—
A Corridor of Quiet—
By Seraph—sometimes Kissed—
No Clock—presumed—to tally—
No Noon—to be—declared—
The Light—was but a Whisper—
That would not say—we erred—
We lingered—in a Silence—
That had no Need—of Name—
A gentle—Pre-existence—
Too delicate—for Flame—
The Souls—like folded Letters—
Awaited—Earthly Hands—
To open—what was written—
In unremembered Sands—
And I—perhaps among them—
Sat—Docile—in the Air—
Until the World—requested—
My small—appointment—here—
Thus—when the Cradle called Me—
I rose—from Ether’s Home—
Exiting—an endless Chamber—
To find—a Mortal—Home—
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