alive in its silence with a need to move,
still and without an edge.
it laid itself down and made no one aware.
A murmur of life lost in the rest of the noise
it languished in its inertia
waiting to spring forth without fetter.
It's time would come, but that time is yet nigh.
But when it does,
be wary,
for it will come like a storm.
I know, so I breathe deeply
and mind my helm,
trim the sail,
and I wait,
though I do not wait well.
