I just turned up this old poem-fragment. I think it's from 10 or 15 (or more!) years ago, yet it still seems just as appropriate to me today. Yes, wistfulness - I do wistfulness a lot. I suppose the happier state would be wistlessness...
OK, perhaps this isn't very good - but I haven't felt inspired to write anything new for a while. Bear with me.
The drummers in my head have played too fast
And loud and furiously and strong,
Driving me always beyond the pace
My stumbling wits allow.
How long, how long I've searched for softer rhythms
To quell the riot of despair within my soul.
And after all these years, at last I find them
In the gentle steady beating of your heart.
Only let me lie
With my head upon your shoulder
And I can be at peace.
Only let me lie...
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