oh to yearn

I see all these people in this big wide adult world

Go on and on and on about passion

The one that propels, the one that inspires.

Why has it still been a stranger to me?

Ever since my time here,

I have done what I should - what others thought I would.

Isn't it my duty? my purpose?

It's not that I regret it. I like living that way. 

Why must I have a passion?

But I still ache to feel that,

perhaps dance is that for me. 

But shouldn't we go head-on into what passions us?

Then why did I take so long, so slow?

All I do is yearn and yearn.

And move slow and steadily through life.

I yearned for now years ago - now I am here.

I yearned to dance, and now I do it more.

I yearn to write, then I write. 

I yearn to love, still waiting on that.

The other stuff-a little mundane but crucial-I do it as needed. 

I long for times, places and people. 

Maybe flow towards it like a flower moving with the waves.

The passion I sometimes feel is so ephemeral,

I think I never felt it at all.

I like yearning - the way to live it. Soft and graceful.

Why must it be bad? Why must one need passion?

Perhaps someday I will feel it. Use it. 

But for now yearning is how I live.

The one that remembers the past, 

longs for the future, and pleases the now.

oh what a feeling to yearn, I shall make it somehow.