waiting

in the utter silences after the event, feet step softly, not so far away, their tread possibly unheard, imaginary in the altered universe where unknowns define this day....and so we wait, the false sun flagging routines to begin, journeys to undertake, we wait in that hidden self which few access and finding an empty bench count those moments until the silence is broken with words, routine flouted by events, the false sun darkening in the breath broken across each breathless wavelength...in these places, these moment the quiet of memory reminds us to hope; certainty belongs to the past and that a sequence of subjective possibles...the future, that unmapped place beyond this thoughts horizon remains, as it always was, a place of hope, of infinite possibilities...words will come today, phones ring and keys clatter, word will come but in that unmapped future where they form there must remain hope...and so this day is dreamed dark and hopeful...