waiting to be born...

I dont attempt to write poetry all too often. Except at times when something lurks inside me, threatening to burst me at the seams. Sometimes it induces nausea, sometimes feels like theres labour pains to be had. (with all due respect to mothers, since i'v not actually experienced labour pain).. anyway, so i feel like that tonight. its just after 4am. i'v had a long day. and sleep evades me. no power naps. no snooze-on-the-couch-with-the-telly-on. no daydream moments in gross neglect of the books. just lots of hours in my day. and i'm still wide awake. and theres a huge family luncheon tomorrow through which i will be my chirpy self, belying the lack of slumber and theta dream state..

and yet, theres this baby waiting to be born..

what is this ..
this feeling erupting from deep within..
this restlessness..
this living moving ocean inside,
causing havoc with the simple body..
attached to soul and its meanderings of little understanding..
this unnamed thing..
waiting to be set free..
waiting to guide this wanderer..
waiting..

why, i think this thing is me!
having being found,
waiting to be born.
again and again.
just as He intended.
rejuvenating the spirit,
renewing the mind and
refurbishing the inner workings
of muse and matter.

indeed.. this thing is me :)