(Be)Longing

I want my old self back.
The one that plunged deep into dreams,
careless of consequences.
The one that embraced love fearlessly,
giving without hesitation --
no thought to wherewithal's or whither's,
no fingers surreptitiously counting entries
on some karmic balance sheet.

A self that drank in the sea,
saw horizons beckoning,
smelled the sweetness of salt
on sun-drenched skin --
never imagining the susurration of waves
could whisper a language of loss,
the melding of blue into blue
at the edge of the world
signal annihilation, not exhilaration.

I want the wand that wreaked
this spell on my perspective,
transforming desire into drudgery,
the glitter of the unknown
to a haze of arbitrary choices.
The spell that stole my faith in Meaning,
reducing it to a word with seven letters --
as random as a cloud of ashes
puffed by a gust of wind.

I'll wave it in reverse --
Not reliving, but relieving!
Releasing my heart from its suspension
in futility, like a bubble of foam
so I can run once again with the waves,
build castles in sand,
be aware of the incoming tide and not caring.
Simply focusing on creation and delight!