Waiting For Water
In between the raindrops
And the sun,
Every now and then,
We find the thing
Our souls cry out for,
Our bellies crave,
Our hearts need,
And our heads want.
It isn't often, mostly, rare
And hardly ever found
When we most need it,
Or crave it
Or want it
It's usually on a far-away hill
Hidden in shadow
Or smoke from the burning of dreams.
Life
Is a puzzle piece
Lying
In a box full of death
Waiting to be pieced together,
To be made sense of,
And solved
Like a mystery,
When the picture comes clear.
Love, we suppose,
Should be a right
And not a gift
Should be waiting for us
At the dawn of the day
And the fall of the night,
But very seldom is,
Very seldom,
Even shows it's face.
It runs from us
Because it's afraid
Of what we'll do to it
Once we catch it
And so it runs,
And keeps it's distance
Outside of our hearts
And our hard clenching hands.
We are bellies
Begging to be fed,
Minds,
Wanting to be filled,
Souls,
Crying to find peace
And our hearts are cages
Where no bird sings.
But every now and then,
In between the raindrops
And the sun,
Though we may not know it's name,
Or recognize it's face,
Or understand it's touch,
(For we are humans, after all
And do not know what we do not know
Till it has passed.)
We find the thing
That gives life meaning
When clarity comes
Like a cup full of hope
Drawn from the wells of our darkest despair
And all of us, from the least to the greatest,
Before dying is over and all dreams gone to dust,
We will come to that well
And stand peering deep down
Sometimes, a mirage, and sometimes, for real
Waiting for water
In the desert of love.
©by Voo
Aug 15, 09
9:49 p.m.
