Fredric Sims

musician | poet

Waiting to be fully satisfied.

Fredric Sims

Waiting.

I often find myself thinking about everything I am waiting for. From finding a career. To getting married, starting a family. Even becoming a better poet/musician. To finally transition to greater satisfaction.  I often say to myself. “How long?” “Isn’t it time?” “Haven’t I waited long enough?” My soul is longing. Longing for more. For something beyond my self. Something better. But nothing is good enough it’s as if it lacks something. Can you relate? I wrote this poem to communicate  that the soul is longing for not just something but really someone. Only one. When we see this person we will be in every since of the word satisfied. Full of joy.  What our longings have been pointing to all along.

Waiting

So…
When is it going to happen?
That’s my question everytime uncertainty
speaks too loudly in my normal.
When mundanes twang taste too bitter on my tongue I mean…
Come on I had expectations.
Things, should be settling in by now
I’ve mapped out my path of life using friends, family, and my precious assumptions so…
It’s time.
Isn’t it?

Hasn’t my heart craved the next stage of life?
Finally see desires fulfilled.
I feel, like a giant cup wanting to be
filled to the point that
I runneth over at last
having the joy of…
Someone holding my hand, a lover.
Or what I hold in my hand, a child.
Or a title, achievement.
A dream job with a financial security blanket that I can curl myself in at night.
Making my worries fly away like they never had a home in my soul.

But all I have is…

Soon.
Not yet.
Perhaps.
Someday.

Honestly…
I’m afraid.
The future feels like a scary movie
I’ve taken the wrong turn onto the back road leading to a place where
fear will have it’s way with me.
Making nightmares a reality
and joy just a fairytale
something read but, never real.
It  living in my fantasies
but dead, in reality.
A suffocating sadness
leaving only  one whisper.
“This is forever, stagnant”.

There are so many desires
planted in the field of my heart
I, standing still
hoping to see them blossom in season.
But I never seem to
leave  the season of waiting.

Waiting for these things to bring,
completion.
The coming of the final dawn, breathless.
Beauty so amazing, speechless.
Glory so expansive greatness
joy so consuming endless.
The ceasing of every pain
the end of wanting
the beginning of gain.

So when is it going to happen?
That’s my question.
When is it’s arrival?

It must  be at the return of the owner.
The one who can make
the tree limbs bend
and the wind kiss it’s ruffled brow.
Make mountains bow and
hurricanes tremble at his voice
what I’m waiting for…
Is Jesus.

The essence of eternal life
for he himself is the future.
A future worth, waiting for.
Living for dieing for.
Something better
he, is better.

So let me rest and wait,
for a greater treasure.


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