Yearning

I could speak to you of longing,

but it's nothing I'd convey

in simplicity of language

or in feeble words confessed.

What is it that I long for?

What calls my soul to breathe?

The deepest, darkest moments

of my inner life's lament

become the truest lies untelling

of the useless time I've spent.

There are things beyond this moment ~

things seen with more than eyes

This comes from understanding

that there is more to me than this

and the things I find surround me

aren't intended to be missed

But they beg to be examined

for the proof of what's inside

But I'll wait confused and broken

hoping trust and faith resolve,

taking images of Eden

to make postcards of my home

~~~~~~~

Writing prompt from A Writer's Book of Days: "Write about yearning."