I am parched for living ~
each second, a drop I would drink dry
if only I could hold it on my tongue
long enough to taste its soul.
I crave the heat of the sun
as it bleeds itself into the sea,
the riot of color that screams
you are here, you are breathing.
I want the wind to tear through me,
to strip away the dull and the tame,
leave me raw and trembling
beneath the pulse of what's real.
The moon hangs like a promise,
and I share it with the ones I love ~
that pale ache reminding me
we are bound by the same light,
the same hunger to feel.
There are places I have not touched,
skies I have not inhaled,
and still my veins drum their demand ~ more.
More of the world,
more of the wild ache of being.
My thirst cuts clean to the bone ~
a fierce, holy wanting
that will not let me rest
so long as life keeps unfolding
its terrible, tender beauty before me.
