observation of light

THe desire for something real and nothing contrived seems to penetrate the spaces in my soul that need to be filled up Who are we but creatures of existence who crave the things that bring us pleasure a kiss behind a bar a fleeting moment of connection an intoxicated sunrise we run toward the moon, toward the water, toward the elements and shrug it off in the morning as if the daily life holds the answers to our future while the late night stars, hold our secrets in the sky of an endless possiblity of freedom what is light without dark pleasure without pain they mingle so closely it is hard to separate them It is hard to remember when I ever wanted nothing more than something sincere what is beauty perched on a barstool if it holds nothing but a vessel? what are these words if they are never heard? who am I if you hear nothing and see nothing Who am I if you never cared about anything but just to get inside?