Sought

An elusive desire,
perhaps a ligature of thought,
in a convocation of lot,
the augur of appetite of one's great sire.

Would the fire of desire be extinguished in a deluge?
Could a squall so much as to squelch the covetousness of one?
But what could one seek in mortality's little clasp,
slowly to lose grip?

The vacantness of a grotto,
perhaps yearning for some actuality,
or some material creativity,
on the streams of water, so very cold.

Will we ever fulfill our avocation in the winds,
or will we be confined in a perpetually empty cavern,
merely to lament again,
and to call ourselves a pawn in the game of chess?

The shepherd calls to all,
"knock and the door shall be opened",
"ask and ye shall be given",
well, perhaps there is a flaw.

But the lamb disederated, from tis' inspidity,
though he was led,
and he was fed,
be exonerated.

After all,
life is not immaculately a bed of roses,
but a little hoarfrost,
and some evanescent penchant.

Shades of wistful rumination,
still hungry when filled;
for the fires to persist,
against affinity's will.

cuRRent...jer



  ¶ 8:58 pm