Image Credit: Victor Dyomin/Shutterstock.com

I yearn for something I cannot name
I sometimes see it out of the corner of my eye
Or dancing in the fire’s flame
An ethereal understanding
Or a test or ritual that if I pass through
I’ll never be the same

I want to grow
To reach beyond these windows
The safety of this room so I may know
Where all the wild things go
But I am meek and mild not wild
It is not my terrain, my home
Not a place that I may own
And yet I yearn all the same
For this thing without a space or name

I feel the call outside of me
That might be hope, that might be free
From all the day to day necessities
The things they tell me I must do
To conform, confirm that I am true
To something so alien to my nature I
Wish only to escape, to fly
To touch the flame
Of the thing without a form or name
I yearn

(c) Helen Valentina 2019