Nine hours on the road, in the air, on rails, all to get somewhere I don’t really want to be. Yet I’ll take the good with the bad, for the doing of something unpleasant gives the chance of change. The shedding of granite shackles, even if only for a few days, is welcomed. Perhaps they will be loosed for good one day.
Not yet.
First I have to make it through what might be a rather dull afternoon. Though there is the dawning awareness that it would take the same time to be somewhere intrinsically more appealing. It is present but not overwhelming. I could spend tomorrow walking on the beach, trying to fathom which of ten thousand footprints are yours?
Not yet.
That ever-present urge to change direction, jump back on a plane and hit the reset button on life, just is. Like an appendix it sits there doing nothing, occasionally flaring up. Yet whilst it is something possible, I must recognise that it is not probable.
Not yet.
The therapist’s favourite expression as he tries to slow me down and stop me running headlong into a brick wall, or a pit of spikes, or vipers. There are, after all, very good reasons: Ones which have legs and walk around but cannot readily follow of their own volition, though I hope they would want to.
Not yet.
Tonight I will watch the lights go on once more in the City and wonder if the quantum you and I had fun that weekend we met here. Would that this were a ‘not yet’ rather than what it is, but we cannot have all things as we would like.
Not yet.
Perhaps that was the universe’s way of saying ‘Not Yet’? Yes, you will find peace, just not yet. (In the interim here is a glimpse through the window of possibilities.) Yet I lingered too long at that window and found myself transfixed. When the shutters closed my heart cried out “Not Yet!” for I did not wish to leave.
Not yet? Not ever.
A
Learning to love the silence 
Very beautifully and deeply expressed!
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Thank you.
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