Waiting To Be Born

Waiting To Be Born Waiting to be born, To reach out, To touch a solid world, To feel the joy of sunlight, Seeping through my eyelids, As I lie on soft sand. Waiting, To feel the crack of thunder, Shutter through my bones. To see the flash of white light illuminate my sky. Waiting, for my love to matter, For my decisions to dance with consequences, For reality to be sharpened, Finer than a dazzling beam of Laser light. Waiting, To run my hand over the rough bark of a majestic tree, To smell sweet air, after the rains have touched the earth, To run, with my arms outstretched, To greet in passion, someone I love. Waiting to know that I am alive and that death must wait its turn, Waiting to go to sleep and dream, To dream and dream until I long to awake. John Roberts