Current

We hide our appetites, embarassed into denial,
Age mocking our knowledge of our slow demise.
Screaming against the passage of Time, we politely acknowledge the minutes and moments
As they glance at us, through us, amidst us,
And we are ignited with the recognition of
Life, unextinguished.
I would have lived many such selves as were given to me, kindly,
If only I had spent a fraction of the lost levees
Upon a soul that truly loved
My fierceness.
And what is love? To know, to see, to feel, to quench an appetite;
To slake and forgive it; to stoke and stroke it into being,
Relaxed in its glow, secret and sighing in its Adoring;
Having known it as
Expressed and Closed,
At last.