The chair that waits: poems for the unknown table.

There is a chair that waits for you at the table you do not know. No matter how many times you have passed through other rooms, sat at familiar tables surrounded by familiar faces, this one is different. It is silent, unassuming, yet it holds a promise that only curiosity can recognize. Poetry is like that chair. It is a space reserved not by invitation, but by the quiet insistence of your own desire to sit.

Every poem is a new table; every line is a seat we have yet to occupy. The first time we approach, we may feel the unease of the unknown: fear of not understanding, of not belonging, of not measuring up to the conversation between the words. Yet poetry invites us to sit, assuring us that even if we have never been here before, the place was always waiting for us.

Sitting in that chair is learning to listen. Poems speak with voices that belong to no single moment, to no daily routine, yet they resonate within us. Each line is an invitation to see beyond the obvious, to feel what we did not know we could feel, to understand that sometimes it is not about who else is at the table, but the intimate relationship between us and the words.

The table we do not know may seem strange or empty at first. Perhaps no one speaks; perhaps we do not understand everything. But every time we sit, that chair reminds us that poetry is not about immediate answers. It is about claiming a place in the unknown, daring to be present with attention, and allowing language to transform us from within.

And so, every poem read, every verse written, is like arriving at that invisible chair and discovering that there has always been a place for us, even at tables we could not imagine, in conversations we never expected, in silences that finally hear us. Poetry teaches us that uncertainty can be an act of welcome, and the chairs waiting for us in the unknown are, in truth, bridges to our own voice.

Rosastre.