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The wait is ephemeral, so they say. There is nothing that is permanent and so shall be the yearning that haunts you this moment, like the sky-clad clouds waiting for the threshold to abandon their prowess. The moment is stealth, like the best of the arts that is unrevealed until the real magic is lost. The world of an untamed hypocrisy enervating you lest you succumb to its disease of sanity. You have been there and seen it all but it still beats the logic of a lost humanity, of the honesty that was once a part of being humane. I yearn for the lost days, and I know that this wait is “wishfully” ephemeral.”