What are the things most desired and fought for by more than just some?

What aspires the thoughts and feelings that bind all hope and expectation in harmony?

Like all men I yearn, waiting and anticipating the rare, most precious moment to come,

When she will fly out in all her vibrant glory, playing the most sensuous melody.

From time to star, captured - then released, we all seek to become.

Their sometimes tawdry sight has only hunger wrought,

So ambivalence confounds my aborted, forgotten feeling.

As I groan with delight of the thought,

The sovereign crown of frustration rules as king,

In every day that mourning had brought.

But the loveliness of one so soft, in white;

Days are filled with their smiles, while evenings grin.

The satin smooth splendor of dying with her tonight;

I’ve looked for myself, but can never win,

Perhaps because she never notices the fight.

Impoverished, indeed, for the sound of her word;

Like a cold, blunt stone I reek with jealous agony.

The air is embellished with the sound of a bird:

The arrival of spring, without hope, without me.

Below them I’m drowning, but they’ve never heard.

I walk about to find a place to cry,

That dejected, aging ghost shadows my mind.

The wind is the only one to chase a sigh,

So I peak at one again, through a broken glance to find

Myself in darkness, shimmering, but who knows why.

She depresses me so very beautifully,

While a cascade of tears pour down a mountainside;

Deep inside, a volcano will never erupt from its insanity.

Fawns feed voraciously on ever-growing meadows that abide

By inexorable currents, crashing turbulent, tempestuous tides inside me.

Lonely, I seek loneliness, like an angry old man in and out of the rain -

Looking over a mirrored shoulder, a younger man I should’ve been;

Flowers and sand will always kiss my enclosure sealed from pain.

I watch two escape into one another, hours I should‘ve seen,

But the eternal thirst and internal wintry strifes will never wane.