There is a dash with a dark border indicating that we didn't have time for waiting, for being the way we might have imagined; perhaps it's the part of speech that collected I with you and possibly others, first second third persons who together, may not go the desired speed of the individual, infinite time and distance chip away at the edges of the passively voiced design; accelerate past the future and into the present, as the meditative spiritual traditions ritually require; and yet you are not of that time, neither are we, so we read philosophy and pretend to understand the fact of unknowable facts, the truthless truth that was lying over the horizon while we searched for the sun by starlight believing we made it rise at dawn wishing we hadn't lost the constellations.