As Time Goes On...

What will ultimately be the end of us
Is what's sown at the beginning:
A strange, benighted pseudo-love,
Which needs debate before defending.
But, to be fair, maybe nothing more was needed:
The earth kept turning, we were fed,
Kept just enough without being depleted,
And I could always rely on my own warm bed.
But what only is needed, isn't enough.
This I've learned now, being human.
I acknowledge my heart now, and untangle my scruff,
Long days pondering what I feel should've been.
And again, perhaps I have no right
To pine for more than that baseline privilege;
But I gaze stupidly into the sky at night,
Walking listlessly along the ridge,
Searching in the scented air, the stars,
For a substance -- so it seems -- that's freely given
Between untrammelled hearts, or even folded through the bars,
By force of desire, between hearts that are riven.