Desires

Desires are born—

they rise with us,

grow alongside our breath,

cradle themselves

within the hollow of our days,

and dance softly

in the quiet spaces of our hearts.

They bloom in childhood’s first dawn—

the tender longing for wonder,

for a world wide open

and full of whispered secrets,

where every moment holds a promise,

and every star a wish.

They thicken in youth’s fierce fire—

flickering flames that spark and leap,

pulling us toward horizons

that shimmer just beyond our reach,

calling us to leap, to fall, to fly,

to dare the unknown and be alive.

They deepen in the steady pulse of life—

in steady steps and aching hope,

in hands that hold and hearts that break,

in dreams spun on sleepless nights,

in laughter echoing down the years,

in sorrows that shape us,

in love that teaches what it means to yearn.

Desires grow old with us—

softening, fading, sharpening still—

becoming threads woven into the fabric

of who we are, and who we long to be.

And then, before the final breath—

there is that last desire,

whispered, fragile, fierce—

how shall death come?

With what quiet grace or roaring storm

will the curtain fall?

For even in the face of ending,

desires clutch us—

asking, pleading, waiting—

to choose the way we go,

to hold a last moment’s light,

to soften the silence that will come.

Yet, in the end—

all desires must surrender,

must fold their wings,

must fall into stillness.

They die with us,

like petals fallen on a river,

carried gently downstream

to somewhere beyond knowing,

to somewhere beyond longing.

But while we live—

desires live with us,

breathing fire and shadow,

promise and pain—

the endless song of becoming,

the quiet yearning to be whole.