I don't know

I am waiting.
It seems that I am always waiting for something.
Something specific.
Something not so specific.
But something, for sure.
I wait for the sun.
I wait for the unknown.
I wait for memories of other lives.
I wait, I wait, I wait.
And in the midst of so much inaction.
I find myself there.
Sitting.
Looking at the sky and the water that flows.
That's the life of one of the faces that inhabit me.
Yeah, well, I'm inhabited by many.
If I could choose,
I wish I could be whole in myself.
But can we ever be just one?

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