Waiting For The Sphinx To Speak

Waiting For The Sphinx To Speak

I sit in the desert,
old but not yet weak.
No one knows I am here,
waiting for the Sphinx to speak.
And when he does,
he will tell me everything,
complete the pyramid
from root to peak.

I am happy to be sitting here
in the desert sand
with nothing in my head or hand,
like a bird with a seed in its beak,
waiting for the Sphinx to speak.

I once saw a face in a drawing
that knew everything.
I stood and listened
for what it might say or sing.

The story of the silent seekers,
the mystery of the meek,
I wish to know as I sit,
waiting for the Sphinx to speak.

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