God comes tomorrow… but tomorrow never comes.
For every night in my office, I find myself staring at the blinking red numbers of a digital
clock, as I come to the realization that tomorrow does not exist.
Each night, while my eyes turn dry from the cold air, I witness the anticipated future morph
into the already-fading present.
I wait for God to sit upon my window sill, and look out over the dark houses that line the
I wait for his arrival tomorrow.
I anticipate his coming.
The clock blinks twelve.
He must be running late.
I'll bleed into the sand; I told you I would win this war.