The Wait - A single word, a thousand shades…

Wait —

Just one word on the tongue,

But in the heart—an ocean.

One word,

But countless meanings.

One name,

Yet worn by many souls.

For every being

On every path,

In every time and season—

Wait is a thread

Stretched between yearning and fulfillment,

Between silence and arrival.

---

A newborn child,

Lips trembling like a rising tide,

Waits—

For the first warm touch of a mother’s hand,

For milk, for heartbeat,

For the gentle shelter of love

That feels like home before speech.

The boy returning from school,

His bag bouncing with untold tales,

Waits—

For the open arms of his mother,

For that embrace

Where all the day’s wounds

Are kissed away.

And that mischievous child—

Eyes lit with trouble and joy—

He waits too—

Not just for sweets or toys,

But for that scolding laced with affection,

That tender chiding

Which only a mother can make feel like love.

Two teenage classmates—

Too shy to speak,

Hearts dancing behind glances—

Wait.

They wait for one look

To turn into a thousand confessions.

They wait

For eyes to say what lips dare not.

A girl, lost in dreams,

Her sleepy gaze resting on distant clouds,

Waits—

For the prince of her stories,

To walk out of the mist of fantasies

And into the rhythm of her days.

The young maiden,

Her heart trembling like a flute’s note,

Waits—

For the secret meeting beneath the moon,

For stolen moments,

For the magic of a lover’s nearness.

And he—

The one aching in separation,

Burning in the fire of distance—

Waits.

He waits for the glimpse of her smile,

For the echo of her voice,

For one more moment beneath her gaze.

---

The earth, scorched and cracked,

Waits—

For the first monsoon drop

To fall like a kiss

Upon her barren skin.

Birds flying across

The searing summer sky

Wait—

For a cool breeze

To lift their wings with grace again.

A garden, stripped bare by autumn,

Its branches trembling in stillness—

Waits—

For the breath of spring,

For colors to return,

For the music of blossoms reborn.

---

The bride, married just yesterday,

Veiled and bashful,

Waits—

To step into her new world,

To be embraced

By love she’s only imagined.

In temples, mosques, and sacred halls,

Where heads bow low

And hands rise with hope—

Wait lives too.

They wait for grace,

For mercy,

For the touch of the Divine.

A wanderer, lost from his caravan,

Dust upon his feet,

Eyes scanning every horizon—

Waits—

For a familiar path,

For a sign,

For belonging.

---

The laborer with empty hands

Waits—

For a day’s work,

For dignity,

For a wage that feeds the hungry belly

And honors the soul.

A mother whose son went abroad

Chokes on unsent letters,

And waits—

For his voice to fill the silence,

For his return to fill her arms again.

And two old parents

In a quiet house,

Their backs bent like forgotten trees—

Wait—

Not for riches,

Not for gifts,

But for one gentle knock,

One hug,

One shared cup of tea

To light the long evening of their lives.

---

And far above and beyond them all,

This fool—

This ignorant, wandering soul—

Waits.

Waits for the dawn of wisdom,

For knowledge to pour like morning light

Into the darkness of his mind.

He waits

For the truth

That frees and fills.

---

Yes, wait is everywhere—

In first cries

And final breaths.

In doorways, windows, hearts.

It is a prayer,

A promise,

A pain,

A song without end.

Wait is not weakness—

It is faith.

It is love stretched across time.

It is longing

That believes in arrival,

Even when the road grows long.