As Xena sits and sharpens her sword, the snick of the stone rhythmically passing over the blade, does she ponder on that which drives her? Does she look across to the blonde tresses that seem to dance and shimmer in the blazing fire's light and want something so very badly that it rules her every waking thought? How does someone who lives life so very intensely function when her very body and soul cries out with need for a soulmate that might perish as a result of her actions or lack thereof?

Looking at my hands, I can almost see the need
As it pulses like wildfire through my veins.
The urge to touch her makes my skin tingle
And I can almost feel the warmth of her body
As it moves like some primal symphony
Against the tribal beat of my heart.
Running fingertips over my thighs as l wait,
Yearning to be with her once more,
Forever more, makes me conscious
Of the constant craving that drives me,
Urging me on, even in the twilight hours
When dreamless slumber is what I need
But cannot hope to have.

July 28, 1999