Think of something small that grows with each line written, until in time it becomes the size of a cruise ship on a mill pond - visible only to those with open hearts and open faces. 
Begin the journey if you want to take a seat at the feast. 

Waiting is an endless waste, time in standstill.  While the world spins and the seasons change.  Look at yourself, what is it you are waiting for - death? 

Do you fear the wind when it blows, do you fear you will hear your name on its breath? For you will, one day you will, and not once but again and again and again.  Those that love the wind have been here before, they know and are not afraid.  One day that will be you. 

We are richer with hindsight, but seeing into the future was never a gift given to man.  Don't see a rock where there is wool and don't imagine clouds because there is rain.  Words written in sand can be washed away in a moment, so take the strength of history and the open wounds of the earth to write in your heart.  Those words, ingrained in memory will never be forgotten.  

Tear the truth from the undergrowth and lever open the doorway in the cave of our unbelief's.  Watch me do it if you don't believe.  The white dove and the downy chick are purer souls than you or I for they own nothing more than the feathers on their backs. 

Leg room for elephants is never a problem, they make their own.
For me I have no choice except to find a place that fits and slide myself into place - like a knife placed in the drawer - lined up, shiny and smooth and pointing in the right direction.
Not so the elephant, he owns the drawer. 

​​To understand time one needs to understand that in the Universe time has no meaning.
Imagine the rim of a bucket.  Time as we think of it is all around the rim.  Show me the beginning and I will show you the end.  As you look forward into the future, look far enough and you will see the past, look even further and you will see the present.  Our existence, the Universe’s existence is a circle, there is no beginning and no end. 

There is a welcome in the light that lifts its face at dawn.  I see the curve of the smile in the cloud's edge before the sun comes to take possession of the sky.
Birds hear the whisper and join in with ancestral song, brushing off the rimy cobwebs of night with pure memory gilded in the springing notes. 

Wash it all out through tearful eyes - walk along the meadow's ridge and listen; see what everyone is failing to see. 
No time, no-one is there, and though the kites fly in the sky there is another bird up high that wings himself on further, to the very highest mountain top from where he keeps an eye on man's endeavor and judges those who do not try.