The fierce desire


The fierce desire

A Poem by Coyote Poetry


Many kinds of hunger. Some lead us to paradise and some lead us to hell.


      The fierce desire
Old man sat by the sea with the young pretty Poet.
She asked him. “What do we cherish? What will we remember?”
Will we remember joy or love or regret the things we didn’t do?”The old man poured the red sweet wine into her cup.
He smiled and told her. “We can hear, see, smell, touch and taste. The senses are to
sweeten the life. Not create fear. We need the fierce desires to lead our life.
Wine, song and dance till the end. Time isn’t our advantage. Old age will come and make
us weak and fearful.”

The young Poet watches the waves and question the old man by the sea. “Does my life matter?
Am I just a voice and whisper to be forgotten one day? Do I have destiny or can I decide my life?

The Old man laugh and told the Poet. “God had a sense of humor. Allow man to think he is free. Allow
man to think he is more powerful than nature and even God. The last joke is on man. You will die. Face
the end and face your deeds and action. I do believe the meek will know salvation. Better to be kind and seek peace with life than go against it.”

The Poet asked the old man sitting by the sea. “Beloved Poet. You sit here with your wine and talk to me. You asked for nothing in return. Dear friend. What do you need?”

The old man hug the girl and whispered to her. “We can repair what is near. Our life is short. I receive payment by your kind voice and company. We must live life-like the wild flower. Free and never controlled. Hold on to freedom as long as you can. God is fair. He who lived for love and tried their best to be kind. Will understand peace one day.”

Two people watch the waves dancing on the shore.  Waiting for the sun to fall into the western sea and the moon to light up the night.
The old man by the sea. Kisses the young Poet forehead and told her.

“Joy or love, laughter or tears. Bliss or loneliness. We must taste life with the fierce desire.
Or wished we did.”


© 2013 Coyote Poetry