I'd write, if I could. Write about it all. All those
feelings. All those moments. All those desires and needs. About high mountain
top expeditions, and staring far out at the clouds, wishing for a drop of rain
and hope. The heart knows not what it wants and all the soul wants is to
reach out and grab what it knows to be its own. That which has always belonged,
but never really been possessed. A changing season, a skipped heartbeat, the
union of souls, the heightened spirit.
