A Knowing

I'm wondering about a thing,

An old kind of knowing,

A persistent feeling,

A feeling that burns and stings.

Like putting your hand into a flame,

A desire so strange;

Wild and untamed.

This knowing that we are the same.

It's uncomfortable

And not yet tangible.

But as sure as the earth turns,

A part of me yearns

To hold that fire.

It cannot be confined within words,

It cannot speak, yet it can be heard.

It calls louder than all of the birds,

Singing from all of the tree tops

Within the canopy of the world.

I see you clearly amongst the blurred,

Frantic, bustling herd.

I cannot see you with my eyes,

More that I see your truth within the lies.

And much to my surprise,

There have been tears that I have cried

Over this knowing,

Because as much as I've tried

I cannot stop this knowing,

It's growing...

And I'm not sure where to root it.