"Waiting in the Hollow"

I stand, I sit, I ask, I wait, Time moves, yet nothing shifts its weight. The sky hangs low, the wind is still, The world goes on, against my will. I call a name that does not come, I beat a drum with silent thumb. Steps echo on a barren ground, Yet nothing answers, not a sound. We talk of plans, of hope, of dreams, But meaning drips in empty streams. A leaf falls slow, a bird flies past, All things arrive, and nothing lasts. Perhaps God walks, perhaps He sleeps, Perhaps He laughs while no one keeps A record of our foolish ways, Of wasted nights and hollow days. So we wait, and wait, and wait some more, The same old road, the same old floor. And in the waiting, we remain, Human, lost, yet still humane.