I keep asking myself
what the difference is
between waiting
and going dormant.
Both are still.
Both whisper just a little longer.
Both promise movement tomorrow.
But waiting has a pulse in it.
A quiet readiness,
like a runner leaning forward
before the starting gun.
Dormant is different.
Dormant is when the body
forgets the feeling of leaning.
When hope stops stretching its legs
and starts building a house
inside the pause.
And the voice that once said
hold on
slowly becomes
stay here.
I wonder
how many dreams
didn’t die from failure.
But from listening
to just a little longer
one too many times.