following

I waited for the lonely man
seems I waited half my life.
I waited till the colours
poured out of existence.
I waited till the birds fell 
from the clouds like black stones.
I waited till there was nothing
but scribbles and impressions.

Then he came, lonely man.
Along a road that was only an idea,
where his shadow was my eye.
We met with a certain embrace,
knowing the time at last had come
and with his arm across my shoulder
he led me back to home.