When?

A clap of thunder? A sign?
Water, dark as rich red wine?
I wait, for consent or admission?
To absolve me of gnawing hesitation?
It's not the question of to whom,
But when?
The sultry summer or the first fall?
When i'll finally give you my all?
It's a weary when indeed,
For it's certain i was here yesterday,
With the same questions in my eyes,
That stared wistfully down,
Into the abyss of blessed nothingness?
If it's meant to, fate shall have it, anyway
So i won't impose on you to stay,
Time, i fear is running out
For your patience, my resolve,
So i free you
...of me
My will no longer governs my actions,
My hand nor my heart,
In the mist of doubt, on the steep mountain road,
I'm sightless, fearful of my own next step..