archives, poetry

The Longing. {poetry}


“A journey of a thousand miles begins with a single step.” ~ Lao Tzu

Through my own personal experience, wading through a variety of life’s twists and turns — love/loss, dis-harmony/re-balance, depression/connection, slumber/awakening — I find myself pondering an ever-present, undeniable undercurrent.

The underlying, inspirational urge. The yearning that cannot be ignored or shut down. The tickle at my core, ever persistent, prodding me forth through each step.

Sometimes in the form of a tender squeeze of the heart, reminding me why giving up is not an option, other times showing up with force, pushing me into vast rabbit-holes of inquiry, baiting me to continue to conquer the question marks, in nurturing and pursuing this living process. What does such an innate part of the human journey, this longing, truly mean?

The following poem was birthed through a longing to express both the exquisite, unassuming fragility of experience and the ineffable beauty and birthright that it represents in all of us, never to be overlooked or underestimated in all its phases, from the first baby step to a glorious inspired outcome. For surely that first little step came into existence through the longing to take it — to make it, own it, and embrace it.

Where would we be without this messenger? In a survivalist’s world in great need of a longing inner compass, can we slow down the pace to witness, to appreciate its presence in each singular step and sparkle of devotion along the way?

The Longing

Eyes of the new, feet still walking in the old
I am the germinated seed, still the flower
yet to bloom

My longing, like the blue of a vast azure sky
rides upon the wingspan of the bird tribes who soar
like the whisper of the air element that became a gale force wind,
baby drops of dew, that quench a vast terrain
and the morning kiss
that fuels a heart’s entire day

From the unrequited to the unconditional
The longing, inside the knowing when to oscillate, dissipate
The strength in treading water and the honor of retreat
What a falter, to miss the rapture of chrysalis and caterpillar
that had their day

Trying to run before we may walk,
now relishing the stroll
Are you running with existence of purpose
or escape?

And oh my soul’s recess is a cavernous cave
I visit where the water comes forth as damp
and find myself in each musty drop
I feel I am spiraling, tumbling
falling deep into a void of nothingness. But perhaps
I am oh-so-full.
For it is here, in sunken wells of silence,
the echo is finally heard

Discomfort of an aching body, no longer transmuting sound
but where stillness is welcomed
I shall no longer remain mute

Less surrender is in the longing, as it is to be revived
and in this cave of languish, a final stumble
becomes far more than a dusty heart can bear

Like the last beg for forgiveness, unheard — am I to fall inside myself?
or might I find now
the deliciousness
of delicacy
as the tears of damp fall down, into
ripples that can only splay across the gentlest of pools,
the ebb inside the flow of seas,
predicating the single to become many?

When truth begins to radiate,
as life becomes expression to all beloveds’ ears
From the songbird comes the symphony
an army of hearts is born

Before I found you
it was my longing faith that knew you,
birthed you
as I held my very own heart inside the darkness
and the damp

It became a heart of many,
Kind like kindling wood. Every impulse, another sprig to build the fire
Yielding to ripen, far beyond petty habits
to find
the thrive

It is here, inside the longing
that we no longer merely survive.


An ongoing journey with life and health has led Ange Sang back to her true creative therapy, through the written word and the lens of the camera. Ange is a devoted lover of all things nature, a tree-hugger, and has a heart that feels utterly compelled to shoot arrows of word and image, straight from her mystical experience of life to as many receivers as possible. On a unique path of physical illness, Ange began to share her written and visual arts as tools of thanks — a nod to an ever-rising theme of gratitude, in recognition of those around her. Her heart-vision continues to find its solace and drive in the grace of Mama Nature and the aim to recognize and articulate the grapple of the human condition.


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