Poetry

I went to still the heart of passion
which beat in measures of lust.
The rhythms moved my cravings for you
and to have your soul I must.
What selfish caress, the ceaseless sense,
these feelings a climax of being.
A grasp of eternal, a glimpse supernal
to touch what I am seeing.
I went to still a perpetual will,
to take what could not be own.
To discover the mysteries I knew about,
free the curse of being alone.