Lost and Found

Rising like the wind in cresting a hill Surfacing on my skin an urgent flood Yet my limbs slowed as if filled by mud Where no impatient plow can break ground, till, Nor comprehend the ardent siren muse From which no logic bids appetite recuse But like spring insists its penetrating. Every corpuscle driven and concentrating, Bound by inward need and want we succumb By giving our restraint to surrender We make common discourse a pretender Shamelessly bait and baited we become To shudder awed in spawning’s great wonder And once more our innocence rip asunder.