The world is content
Staggering and grinning
Whistling songs in the sunlight.
There is life
In every empty room.
Every dog resting by the fire.
All the smiling children in the park.
Every ant scrambling across the sidewalk.
There is no denying
That this desire
Intoxicates every fool.
But,
To scream at the night sky without a reason.
To write words senseless to a scholar.
To scribble on every blank page
Knowing none will see, but scribbling nonetheless.
Writing message after message
Without as much as glancing at a bottle.
To walk beneath every towering streetlight
Dimly spraying light upon the road.
Under the flickering traffic signals.
Beneath the ethereal light of the full moon.
Without even the lightest brush
Of daytime's breath brushing against your neck,
Or morning's cold finger drifting down your spine.
That is to love.
