On a cold winter morning,

With a chill,

The grayest clouds,

The rumbling thunder,

Yet, it could not be put out.

Droplets of rain pelting down like stones,

The bleak weather,

The unfaltering breeze,

The harsh howling of a storm yet to be

Still, it burned brighter.

Oh! Such desire.

Where do you originate from?

How you make hope seem reachable

It is the wonder of my tomorrow

What shall it bring?

Desire, desire, desire.

The hunger grips me so tight

I am possessed by its spirit

Bittersweet it promises to be

Yet, worthwhile.


You burn with such scintillating intensity

I shy away from you-

But, it keeps drawing back

Fighting to not be ignored.

For without desire—

I am empty.


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