Patiently waiting for love's arrival. The longing aches, burning slowly. Though the expectation of my wanting excites me, it's love's absence that makes my soul dull. Why does it tarry? Is it strolling along, frollicking amongst other lovers? Or does it run, racing with rage, hearing my heart's beat calling with it's every step? The emptiness I feel is deep, cutting down to the very marrow of my existence. And only love will fill it's void. There's no sufficient substitute, for it's luster will be only ephemeral. Will love make it's home in this house of solitude? Will the cries of my longing for love be drowned by the sound of its knocking at my spirit's door? Patiently, I'm waiting for love to make it's grand entrance.