The inexplicable longing

By Wil C. Fry, May 22, 2001, 21:24

Copyright © 2001 by Wil C. Fry. All rights reserved.

The inexplicable longing — itís still with me
And I guess Iíll learn to live with it
But it hurts, sometimes,
Kind of like when you get your fingernails
    pulled out by pliers
Or when your skin is slowly burned off
    by a cigarette lighter
You know that slight aching that I mean?
Is it a longing for love?
Or for places unseen?
For eternity?
Whatever it is, I will go on wishing
That I had something that I canít grasp
Waking up from a dream with my hands
Grasping thin air
And I canít quite remember what was there
In the mists of a time forgotten
You can make me laugh
You can make me cry
But you cannot fill that hole
So donít even try

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