A poem:

In the dark,
The heart searches in hopeful despair....
Prods with clumsy delicacy...
Waits with impatience...
For a counterpoint to its own harmonious tones
To once again fill a void once occupied,
But carelessly opened in
an act of haste...
A search for bemusment...
A whim of curiosity...
A resolution to frustration...

In a feeling : release............... ... ... .. .. . . . . .

How it comes to pass that a single ray of light
Reaches out with charm and warmth
Strobing enthrallingly...
Pulsing happily...
Teasing playfully...
Now...
Pulls back with care and solicitude
Strobing uninvitingly...
Pulsing wistfully....
Teasing soberly...
With a menacing cycle of ecstasy and despair

In the light, the heart
searches in hopeful despair...
Prods with clumsy delicacy...
Waits with impatience...
Why is the steady heart so capricious?

Anonymous