LongingI walk, the heavy trod of years and flesh and pumping blood, toward the act of dawn,
Door swings wide, open, hinged on unspoken sorrow.
Longing for birdsong and dew, for sun-spray and breeze, for life.
Not to possess, but to become,
To stretch wide, beyond frail mortal encumbrances
And breathe- breath of salt air and mountain, of desert and plain.
Longing
In that early waking hour, when dawn whispers across wide horizons,
a remembering stirs,
And I yearn to cast off the petty trappings of self,
to shine.
It wakes me in the night and
leaves me sweating and restless, hungry for a lover's warm caress.
Longing
The dawn bends her noble head, tenderly kissing mountain, streetlight, chimney, treetop.
A jealous ache, a frantic wish to merge.
And then I chuckle.
When smallness believed the world was flat, it danced in spherical splendor across a wide cosmos.
When sun spun round the earth in heavy books, the universe staid it's course.
When I stare out with unlooking eyes and long to shed my isolation,
God breathes through every atom, in every space
with undaunted wholeness.
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