The Waiting Room

Is Earth just a waiting room?

A transit to someplace else?

Is life just a waiting time?

Alike to standing in line,

To ride the sweet delights at the carnival

Maybe life’s only the crowded airport we rest in between our flights


Have we made a reservation?

And are seated in velvet chairs

Until our some faded and other’s fresh, waiting tokens they tear?


But where do we take off to?

To meet a soul, tender yet strong?

Or just to bathe in a small steamy crystal pond?

Or maybe to every person it’s strangely unique

Immersed in the wait of what their souls seek


And as the queue got long

Our stays prolong

And with the terror of boredom came creativity

That in our waiting room we built destructive cities.


Are the schools we craft and the lessons we teach

Is because the end of the queue is so out of reach?

Is the world we curate

Only to keep busy for the time we wait?


Does all we do here really matter?

If we fall down do we really shatter?


Is Earth just a waiting room?

A transit to someplace special?

That when we start to think that our ride ends here

We’re yet to start the pursuit

Of all that we hold dear.

Excerpt from “The See-Saw Souls” by 

Kaanthal Manikandan