…
is slate, stone
cold and strange
and waiting.
We line up our empty
boxes and squares
and dashes, awaiting
flashes of
brilliance,
beauty,
duty.
We wish upon broken
stars,
and hold our breaths
for that moment
when everything falls
…………..(apart)
…………………in place.
..
Prompted by Poetic Asides.
Whimsygizmo's Blog 
This reminds me of how one feels in the state of transition – like with New Year’s resolutions.
This is great. I especially like the opening. Although, my brain turned “waiting” into “weird.” You can’t have “strange” without “weird,” after all!