Longing for Longing

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The voices rise and fall.
The contemplating soul tunes into the subtle rhythm of those flapping angel wings.

They say, "Lend me your ears and know the secrets of the beauty your heart longs for!"

Looking out seeking something to quench the same old thirst?

Not really. Just a little of something to keep the longing going. Not looking for contentment. Not fulfilment. Not peace.

Grasping onto the fangs of longing to keep it pierced within the moving passions that colour my momentary breath.

Oh Grace, may I have just a little of something to keep the day going? To bath in miraculous showers of sunrise and sunset, to listen to those breaking waves against the island rocks...?

Something to hold on to the bitter sweet bondage of longing?

Oh Grace! Keep your glory concealed. Do not uplift that veil completely to blind my sight, let those dark clouds cover that enchanting smile and whisper to me just few letter of those profound secrets. Imprison me with the shackles of longing, just to let me long for longing itself till this overwhelmed soul passes over its last breath to become longing itself, to be longing and be content as longing.

No flapping angel wings anymore. It's all sober and silent. Just the stillness of longing. 

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