thoughts at the bus stop

I see us;

we are standing patiently and impatiently

with a strong sense of desire coming both ways.

Like looking across the street before crossing.

Some partake in neither.
And they cross with unimaginable stupidity percieved as unapplicable courage.

Yet the world moves forward in a grandiose circle.

Certanily stopping at every glass box;

waiting for me and everyone I hold so close to my heart,

but I don't get on. Just like the intellectuals before me.
They never boarded and I will not succumb to the infinite.