Is’t passing strange, ‘tis not?
That this feeling doth course through my veins
  with each fitful beat of my heart
      But a man will feel lonely, longing for a woman
  yet not desire the flesh as is his wont
      but only to hear a friendly voice in the wilderness
  See a smile whence once was emptiness
    A fairy delicateness and beauty whence once was hard, barren rock

© 1994 by Victor Ganata