I couldn’t sleep for thinking
of all I’ve done and failed to do.
The questions left unanswered;
the doubts unspoken;
desires abandoned and scattered
as though they didn’t matter
(but oh, they matter, dear one)
So much was cast aside,
and what threatens to overwhelm the ramparts
of my overactive mind tonight?
The simple question:
Was it worth it?
It’s better to marry than to burn, wrote Paul
But what the hell was he on about?
Desire smolders within me and I cannot put it out,
nor contain it, nor stop it in its course.
Fire refines, said the Psalmist,
but at this point I’m more concerned with
whether it will take the whole house down with it.
If I could contain it, what would be left–
An empty carapace?
A charcoaled ember?
A burnt offering?
I try to dampen the flame with distraction,
I read dull books, divert my mind with thoughtless tasks
And it works, for a little time,
but the spark just will not go out,
And without warning, I am ablaze again.
Deeper in me than I 