The tall young woman in a golden dress
spins a globe upon her desk and waits,
and waits till calloused finger comes to rest
upon an unknown wilderness. What spaces
lie yet undiscovered, like tabletops
to be uncovered / to be uncovered:
secret words within a foreign bookshop
under dust and under clutter—
Wiped clean! The tablecloth's pulled off! Now she
will be the first to glean their mysteries:
To see what no one else has ever seen,
To be where no one else has ever been.
Until nothing is obscured for her.
For hers is this world and she its explorer.

We've sailed cerulean seas to pastel shores,
Known only to the glorious few,
We have disembarked, ready to explore,
As our lone ship waits slumbering in view
of the glorious bay. Light paints daybreak
across the sky. We see the rising sun
through imagined jungle—and hesitate:
The image lingers, but it must be done,
Eyes close. Toward the interior we turn
remembering, and hoping to return.

fat drips
      fire, sausage crackles—flames
      hiss of steam

winter fir
–ing of a thawing musket
crows scatter

We soft fingers
linger
on the locked
door
laid before
the world
we abhor,

wooden rot
ready to be open
so, we can explore
the radiant wonders
that lay
in the day
on the other side
of this dark night
life.

I am a champion of Longing.
Full of gratitude, yes,
but born with an irrepressible
Desire to Chase.
I am always
peering around the corner,
staying up all night,
and stoking the fire
for only the greatest of dreams
of art, adventure, and pleasure,
of science, nature, and mind.

The beginning of romance too,
is taking on the role of explorer,
setting forth into the unknown,
getting my feet wet,
and splashing forward
by drawing a map.
I am exuberant,
(sometimes forwardly so),
not because I seek to plant a flag
and claim connections as my own,
but because I seek to chart the boundaries
of hearts unknown.

I wish to delight in each waterfall,
spelunk each hidden treasure,
plot and survey each peak!
Is that not the greatest joy -
getting to know
that which finds your soul,
multiplies it,
and hands it back to you anew?

Perhaps after thorough study
One may find a home.
And yet, there is also magic
in just passing through,
an extended holiday,
a retreat when healing is needed,
a reminder of that which makes us
ourselves.

And thus,
I will love, and love, and love.
Not always thoroughly -
sometimes in small explosions,
sometimes not as much where I'd like,
sometimes too much where I'm not needed -
But still I will.
Still I will create, do, inspire,
wonder, and love as much as possible,
Knowing that which does not nurture Longing
is temporary.