Want

A silly little word
Of such power and influence
To go on with descriptors would not be an issue
But that is a poem from the future
I won’t be distracted by now

I am in the act of want
It seems such a simple little want
Just to share and be shared with
The longing is so strong now I would accept any and all it seems

Yet when the invitation is recorded on a machine designed to hide from friend and foe
If asked logic would predict a reaction of rejoice
But logic seems more often than not easily tricked
As a finer dust of despair settles over the room

With the countless number of humans in the world this would seem a simpler task
Logic again intercedes out of range of its own experience
As those most lonely souls wait in vain to be found
Heeding sage scouting advice we don’t stray far from where we find ourselves lost

I walk through the motions of a life, I walk through the emotions of mine
Thinking and walking
Is true love true? You thought once that you knew, but now age and distance, sun and rain
Have banded together cynical, small, faded eroded what you once built your life around

What now brown cow?
Another bump in the road and you have started to take down your tent
Too tired to try.
How sad you used to think when in youth you caught eyes that tell the same story yours speak of now

Where to turn, why to try
You seem to have lost the way so lately found
Is it really that easy to loose your way? Is it better to keep walking
Should I stop? Will it seem different by sunlight? Dare I hope?

by Joseph Camphouse

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