The Art of Yearning

For those who feel deeply and dare to dream

There’s a word that slips between the cracks of language like silk through fingers.

It’s not just want.

It’s not need.

It is - yearning.

Yearning is the quiet poetry of desire. It doesn’t scream or demand. It lingers like the scent of someone who once held you, like a note in a song that trembles just before it fades. It’s the ache of not having but also the strange, delicious pleasure of feeling so deeply that even absence becomes a kind of presence.

To yearn is to be pulled by invisible thread- toward someone, something, somewhere- not yet yours, maybe never yours. It’s love before it is named. It’s longing wrapped in lace and moonlight. It’s the soul’s way of remembering what the mind can’t quite place.

We yearn for what we don’t have, yes.

But also for what might be.

For what could be.

And sometimes, heartbreakingly, for what was.

A person can yearn across time- for a childhood home, a lover who never stayed or a self they’ve never quite become.

But here’s the twist: yearning isn’t a weakness. It’s kind of sacred strength. Only hearts brave enough to stretch beyond the present moment know what it means to yearn.

To yearn is to hope, even when you’re not sure what for.

It’s to believe, quietly and stubbornly, that there is more.

More love. More truth. More beauty.

And that, one day, it might find you.

What you yearn for tells you who you are. Let it guide you, not like a map but like a star. If you yearn for deep connection, chase honesty and soul. If you yearn for peace, seek simplicity and light. If you yearn for freedom, loosen what binds you.

Your yearning is not emptiness, it’s your soul whispering: “This way, love.” So follow it. Tenderly, courageously, one breath at a time.

There will come a moment, maybe tonight, maybe in a silent hour between distractions, when your inner voice rises through the noise. Don’t rush to silence it. Listen. Ask yourself not just what you yearn for… but why. Is it love? Safety? Recognition? Freedom? Or is it something harder to name, like the need to feel seen, to be held tightly, to belong somewhere, to finally exhale and mean it?

Whatever it is, don’t shrink from it. Trace it back to its root. Follow into the ache. Sit with it. Speak to it. Let it speak to you. Because your yearning is not random. It’s not foolish. It’s memory, hope and soul all woven into one truth-seeking thread

You’re not broken for feeling it.

You’re not too much.

You’re not weak for wanting more.

You’re simply a person who refuses to go numb. Someone who dares to keep their heart open in a world that teaches us to shut down. So let the ache stay with you tonight, not to hurt but to remind. There is something in you that still believes in depth. In tenderness. In meaning. In connection. In beauty not yet lived.

And that does not make you fragile. It makes you profoundly alive.

With Yearning,

Shakeera