Desire
it'll start us out too fast it will not be satisfied more stubborn than the stones more certain than the courses laid down by the rains its terrain cannot be mastered cannot be reached except on hands and knees it's a place where all gives way to an unconditional longing which keeps on climbing high above our tired brows a thin silvery strand of birds might chase the light of longer days an urgency returning again and again it'll comb the rocks for us as if we too could ride the light touch the highest crags and be gone almost forgetting these bodies which can only go so far |
(c) Mitch Rayes