Wish

A wish masquerading as a perception of truth;
wearing its disguise as surely as faith wears righteousness,
confusing hope with faith, intuition with desire.

Each day it wakes, knowing the potential of its creation
Believing that all which can be dreamt should be had.
Relishing no more in the miracle of just enough.

By the light of the moon need gives birth to want,
crying incessantly to be held,
demanding the bed of faith, and the food of hope.
In a groggy daze I reach out and take what is mine to nurture
Sickened as I wonder if wish will ever grow to be truth.