And It Shall Be Called Desire

The shop door welcomed me
To dust and ageless shadows,
The smell of wind blown cold
Through a hidden vale,
And spices grown in soil of faraway lands.
The shopkeeper watched me
Wondering that the currents of fate
Landed this driftwood on her shore.
A question formed easily on her lips
What is it you desire?

Something beyond the surface
A current running through the Earth
Energy of nameless source with no end
Past all dream of reality
Or the fount from which it springs.
To know that there is more
Hidden from sight by invisible mists
Haunted by what came before
Pulsing with the power to end time
Or begin anew.

Photo by Kaique Rocha from Pexels

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