Interim

I didn’t know it at the time.

That the pauses were teachers, too.

The delays were never denials, just deferrments,

A snooze button on my Veruka Salt screams, “I want it now”.

Even in the interim, the universe carries me somewhere.

I am a backseat driver while the universe is at the wheel, and I don’t know the terrain we’re traversing,

But she does. She hears my shouts for premature turns, unsuspecting pit stops.

She laughs,

“You are headed somewhere grand, sweet girl. Just give it time.”

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