Longing Poem by Smoky Hoss

In the sable sky
sits a silver moon,
looking for the golden sun
returning soon.

Isn't this the day
the Lord has made,
filled with light and wonder?
Why then am I suddenly
empty, lonely, detached,
and rent asunder?

Where does one go with such brokenness
following the Wind through the valley,
over the hill of divinity,
past the mountain,
beyond the stars, and
into the impossible infinity?

With the end of longing
it shall come at last;
over the hill, and far beyond
the broken and wending past.


'It is not easy to find happiness in ourselves, and it is not possible to find it elsewhere.' - Agnes Repplier