A silence sometimes enters my soul. Stolen from a quiet rarely enjoyed.
The nights I write of passion, passion enters my window borne on winds seeming made to soothe yet laced with the ache of want. My desire and need for sleep is no longer disrupted with the needs of my child, only sounds interpreted by the poet as greater need, the depth of humanity’s urges.


At the height of flight

There is one I wish to speak with, I am a nocturnal creature I kiss the sunrise as I lay my form to sleep, yet the one I long for lives outside of time, at least a time I cannot keep. My reach is for the beloved an ache leaving the soul rendered speechless. Sadness and reverence settle within my being, as there is no hope for this love. Yet I live for hope, I bask in it as other creatures bask in sunlight. I cry silent to the sky can you hear my weeping? Can you feel my longing? I reach deeply into all I know and find only captive wishing for saviour, for lost home, an aching for wholeness. Touch me, claim me hold me close to your gentle heart that I can hear it beat that I can tell time by your pulse and find myself once again within the world. Hold me. Take me in stillness. Gift me hope.

Words by Errant Satiety Image taken from here