yearning

Each night I lie and dream about the oneWho kissed me and awakened my desireI spent a single hour with him aloneAnd since that hour, my days are layed with fire.

He is a unicorn. I want to gently capture him and bring him back to my lab for research.

Dying for love might be pitiable, but it wasn't much different, finally, from any other kind of dying.

Name me no names for my disease,With uninforming breath;I tell you I am none of these,But homesick unto death __omesick for hills that I had known,For brooks that I had crossed,...Before I met this flesh and boneAnd followed and was lost_ .And though they break my heart at last,Yet name no name of ills.Say only, "Here is where he passed,Seeking again those hills.

In violence there is often the quality of yearning - the yearning for completion. For closure. For that which is absent and would if present bring to fulfillment. For the body without which the wing is a useless frozen ornament. ("A Short Guide To The City")

I, too, head for the Baths of Caracalla,thinking__ith my old, magnificentprivilege of thinking_(And let there still be a god in me that thinks,lost, weak, and childish,yet whose voice is so humanit is almost a song.) Oh, to leavethis prison of poverty!To be free of the yearningthat makes these ancient nights so splendid!He who knows yearning, and he who does not,have something in common: man__ desires are humble.

There__ a dream I keep having,_ Sheridan whispered into the telephone. __he dream has always been the same__ntil tonight.___nd what happened tonight?_ asked Lil_ John.Sheridan hesitated, his words stumbling out in tentative phrases: __he man in my dream . . . he spoke to me for the first time . . . he told me of a sacred gift that had been lost . . . a gift that could save the world.___our dream,_ John urged gently. __s the gods conspiring to give you freedom, just like the elders sang that night in the Sundance ceremony:__hen worlds collideThere sounds a tollingA call to riseAnd seize the momentThe gods conspireTo give us freedomWhen worlds collideThe journey has begunSheridan pulled at the collar of his t-shirt, Lil_ John__ words suffocating him. Pushing back from the precipice of dread, Sheridan strained to speak, his husky words weak and staggering: __hat are you saying?___our search for the sacred gift has already begun . . .

Be not wishing and pining but thankfully content. _For it is a short bridge between wanting and regret."- from "Dimpellumpzki

My earnest desire for you has brought me to a point, where the life I've imagined we shall have, seems like a distant memory.

No misery compares to staring at a clear night's sky with arms stretched toward a coveted star, wishing on what is forever out of reach.

Freedom is essential to the pursuit of happiness. Freedom is essential to artistic evolution and expression. Freedom is essential to the expansion of the human mind. Freedom is essential to the development and application of basic humanitarianism.Freedom is essential to the creation of an individual's will, motivations, preferences, and unique talents. In essence, freedom is essential to the success and progress of humanity.

He was so stark and male and beautiful that she hungered for him. Physically, to be sure. But also from someplace even more intimate, someplace where heart and soul melded into a yearning so strong, that she wanted to weep from it.

So often, the discarded love of youth is desperately yearned for in maturity.

the sapphire depthof my own love...startlesand warmsand wounds my soul.

I__ burning in despair Love which you distanced from me Return once again I__l forgive you againReturn, Page 19

Poetry is the yearning of the soul to break free!

The feelings that hurt most, the emotions that sting most, are those that are absurd - The longing for impossible things, precisely because they are impossible; nostalgia for what never was; the desire for what could have been; regret over not being someone else; dissatisfaction with the world__ existence. All these half-tones of the soul__ consciousness create in us a painful landscape, an eternal sunset of what we are.

There was no desire in him for a state or condition, no picture in his mind of the thing to be when he had followed his longing; but only a burning and a will overpowering to journey outward and outward after the earliest risen star.