Desire A final longing clings to me, breathing in between my veins, swirling around my thoughts. A lone talon dug into the flesh of my mind. It threatens resurrection, marshaling the forces of false poverty to its assistance. But I must resist it. I will not long for the city, whose surface gleams deceptively. Nor shall I covet the rolling countryside, whose verdant hills are but Sirens. The past shines similarly, making us forget the crisis of those years we long for. Though like a vicious cycle, I must long for a life without such desires. Unless the path were gone. Then I am there now, having never needed to sojourn across a valley, nor ford any river. Here and There are one. So desire can depart, like mist from a lake in summer.