...not in the...


Not in the heat that she finds me
Not in the chill to be warmed
Not in the resting of the tide high or low
But in passing grabs my wrist and walks; I in tow

Not in the comfort of a child
Not in the wake of some great war
Not in a hunger to be quelled
But in the breath of an apparition found
On some distant shore

Not to the need or want, though I might beckon
Neither for bended knee nor blood
Through which I might implore
Solely upon the winds of her choosing
Might she swoop down to grace me
Only to leave me Needing more

For these things one should be grateful;
Hope for resolve and deepened soul
But an infinite soul means room for infinite longing
Infinite longing wears on an infinite soul…
…Infinitely more