The Longing (Poetry)

It’s invaded his soul
and he can’t quite explain
how obsession’s enslaved him
and addled his brain

Now it squats in his psyche
this thought he can’t shed
it haunts waking hours
discomforts his bed

He tries hard to ignore it
distract and delay
but his stubborn attention
won’t be drawn away

He lives for it — breathes for it
every pore aches
and the state of his mind
is a mess of mistakes

He’s beset by illusions
impossible schemes
and high fever half-conjures
the longing of dreams

with a vision of Heaven
or warning from Hell
and there seems little difference
from what he can tell

He’d be mad to believe it
deemed crazy at best
to sacrifice all
on a ludicrous quest

It’s a fabulous fable
an implausible lie
but it calls like a siren
and he fears he might die

So obeying the impulse
risking money and health
there’s no question about it
he must see for himself