The Longing
Rivers need the rain to start the flow
and lovers need other lovers to grow.
Words are like lovers that long for another
on a search for their hidden selves to uncover,
to become intimate and melt into their arms
and find their inernal desires through many charms,
to keep love flowing through the empty sonnet,
a sonnet that needs the spirit of love to beget,
a passion stream of words longing for another word
like a union of two souls longing for a third,
a new generation to freshen up the thoughts,
to keep them clear by untying the knots,
a skirting around the rocks and over the hurdles
as the heart lets go and the pented passion unfurls,
an eternal poem with eternal rivers flowing
through the seasons with the north wind blowing.
Words born out of a deep passion for another
keep searching and searching for a new lover
until the rivers dry up with the end of time
after the spirit shuts down and falls out of rhyme.
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