Waiting for my heart and soul to find accord

Sitting here searching, wondering, worried

Empty, idle, bored

Hands to the devil go down and slither, wrong

Less to do with nothing

More to do with waiting

Waiting

For what? Pray, tell.

For it, for him for something more profound

than these idle hands searching for faith not found

What’s left in this man is aching, steel flesh

Impenetrable to most, mirror to many

See yourself in me but don’t see me

I am silent, hidden away in disdain

For what I feel of myself

is not what I know myself to be

and what I know myself to be

is but a shadow of the real mean

who could come to be

if he weren’t empty

searching

waiting

for what again, you ask?

That remains to be seen.