figs

i have often hungered
for nothing, and often
been left hungry.
my desire is always
a reaching thing,
chasing after shadows,
seeking the horizon;
too often cursing
what i find wanting.
i should care less—
but i want my mouth
filled with sweet things.
what satisfies one day
doesn’t always another.
we keep moving,
looking for answers
for all our longing.
we cross streams,
explore the high trails.
there are mountains.
we will wear them
down with our walking.