I recognized that look.

It originates in the depths, in the dark, in the unknown.

That place where restlessness never sleeps even when engaged in conversation, prayer, love, play, work, travel, or dance.

Unconsciously seeking, scanning, assessing for that shape, that fragrance, that sound, that taste which would satiate the hunger of the heart, that which would quench the thirst of the soul.

At times ravenous, at times less demanding but never completely still, never at rest.

Restless eyes never still.

It’s not their fault.

They are not aware of the hunger much less that they search.

The object is therefore unfathomable.

Endless loop, boredom, interest, excitement, disappointment.

Becoming more and more bitter.

Tired, torn, and ragged from the search.

Seeking that which is unnamed, unseen, just desire cast upon a world of people doing the same thing.

Hooks cut and mangle soul as they are ripped and yanked out of flesh and spirit.

Like fishing blind and in the weeds.