Song of the Unborn Child

One of my rare attempts at poetry.
Actually, I am trying to string a few chords together on my guitar and fit it into a song....


In the stillness of the warm night,
I can hear my mother’s beat.
My eyes are closed, yet I feel the light,
I am waiting, I am waiting.


The freshness of the morning dew beckons me,
And the chill of a winter’s eve,
The rain in the mountains, the wind in the trees,
I am waiting, I am waiting.


To feel the pleasure that freedom can give me,
Experience the shackles of bondage.
To feel numbing despair, and then taste victory,
I am waiting, I am waiting.


To accept what life may deem fit to send,
Sorrows, joys, experiences.
To decipher the meaning of the beginning and the end,
I am waiting, I am waiting.


Will I be the one to bring understanding?
Or will I just continue to exist?
Will I be a slave? Will I be a king?
I am waiting, I am waiting.

To be born.