Desire

Two months without a post! I do apologize. I have no excuses; the fault is entirely my own. It appears, however, that somewhere out there, people are actually reading my posts, and so, for those who so kindly asked, I now return with more weekly poems. I hope their virtues, as they are, make up for my absence. This latest is a short one. It was written while I was on a Dickinsonian kick, and I tried to capture that brief, yet amazingly self-contained, nature of her own writing. The style is somewhat different, but I feel that I have succeeded, to a certain extent, in encapsulating a broad and universal idea in a few brief lines of text. Enjoy.


Desire

The most sublime pleasure of passion’s pursuit
Resides not in taking, but wanting the fruit.
Disdain satisfaction, then, at such a cost,
For, reaching the heart, one will find it is lost.