Longing

Longing is odd, it comes and it goes

Where it finds sticking points, nobody knows

Without direction, longings just ache

But when it finds target, it's coals and a rake

It is reason and purpose, a mantle for dreams

Only airbrushed and candied, not all that it seems

It's not just about what is, it's about what could be

Sometimes its from longing, we long to be free