Wednesday, 10 February 2016


Fractions crave completion.
There is something about a 0.99 that implicitly longs for another 0.01 to make it whole.
Reciprocals crave reciprocals.
The universe craves unity.

Heavy, drooping eyelids crave sleep.
There is something about tiredness that longs for rest and quiet.
Each malady longs for its cure.

Entrapment craves freedom.
There is something about a butterfly struggling to break away from the death grip of a mischievous child.
Restraint longs for liberation.

Night skies crave constellations.
There is something about the needle-points of light from millions of years ago which still shows lost humans the way.
The lost long for direction.

You are my fitting reciprocal, my last 0.01.
You are dreamless sleep, my inimitable peace.
You are the Pole Star, helping me find my way at a tumultuous, treacherous sea.

In my aloneness, I long for you.

I crave you the way craving craves to be craved.