A Room Full of Hindus

I live in a room full of Hindus

waiting to be born again.

To take my place in new venues,

repeating, like Shirley McLain.

Some want to be cows or chickens.

Some have no preference at all.

As they are picked, my pulse quickens,

fearful my name they will call.

You see I have reason to wait,

'till the time to emerge is just right.

Poised to encounter my fate,

ready, my goal is in sight.

To rush into sweet harmony,

captured by the neon smile.

To listen anew, to life's rhapsody,

to challenge, and grow for awhile.

A journey, a life of sweet music,

surrounded by comfort and joy.

Playing notes and feeling fantastic,

In mystic, but cold, Illinois.

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February 1994 - Chicago, Illinois 

© 1994-2017 CLThomas Published on theprose.com per agreement. Other reproduction for use by written permission only.