Where are the words
when you long to speak?
Where are the stories
that you feel, ache, and wish to tell?
Where is the song
when your heart wants to sing.
again. a new song this time.
What is it when your heart
brims with longing?
Where does it come from,
why is it there now,
and where was it before?
My heart is filled just so.
Because of aches, pain
yearning,
I know I'm alive.
I remember, and breathe.
Can such ache ever be settled?
Truly? Or slightly?
Do we forget that we long?
Or forget how to yearn at all
I find the things I seek
are happiest, not when fulfilled
but when lived with love and laughter.
But longing without love or future
is bleak, hopeless and unsettled.
A yearning with no rest, and no hope
met with unhappiness is pain.
Where are the words,
when you want most, only to speak?
But there is nothing to say.
Where are the stories,
when you long to do nothing more than tell?
Tell stories you feel, but do not know.
Where is the new song,
when you crave a song unsung, a music unheard?
when your heart is filled with longing,
but life is met with hopelessness, and unrest...
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