Yearning

I used to yearn,
yearn to the point of bursting
yearn to the point of
firing
creating
becoming.
I used to feel
art
so deeply
let myself be swept away
by the currents
of words
and emotions.
I used to
imagine
beyond my world
beyond my little
safe spaces
where I was
growing up
and old
and into.
I desired so much more
things that would make my blood sing
my heart race
and my eyes shine.
I desired
more than I had experienced
certain that
the indefatigable tang
of life
lay there,
just beyond my fingertips -
growing longer in time -
everyday
                   till
                               maybe
                                                  one
                                                                day
I would touch
the splendor
that made my being
ache
with
suppressed joy
waiting
waiting
for the spark
that time would provide.
And then!
O Then!
What a conflagration
would ensue!

I became lost
somewhere between
yearning
and completion
forgot about the
sweet tang
of
holding future joy
so tightly
that the tension seemed unbearable
and yet beautiful.
I am starting again.