Hope is a breeze across an open field

Hope is a breeze across an open field.

Anger comes from pounding on a door,

Positive one wants the door to yield.

Perhaps from this one senses something more.

Yearning is a song to wake the dead.

Very few can yearn for what is theirs.

Although love waits half-naked on the bed,

Life can seem a maze of doors and stairs.

Each soul pursues the prey of its desire,

Not knowing that to have must mean to kill.

There is no deed that documents love's fire;

In lovers' hearts, one comes and goes at will.

Need is a wind that strips the landscape bare;

Eventually one turns, and love is there.