Desire

That which is desired above all else is to know what is to be desired of.
The truth laid in its intrinsic value must weigh more than gold or diamonds.
The desire at hand is hardly the correct desire and the correct desire lies far below the forseeable horizion, that I am mostly sure of.
Far off in order to be unseen it longs to be sought after. I, in search of it, am oft distracted by cheapened copies. The problem therein lies in my inablity to spot a fake because I have never truly seen the real.
Yet, a desire takes not a physical shape but a mental figure I would imagine. That figure, a strangely attractive one, lies there, standing out of sight waiting to be the centre of my attention.
That which is meant to be desired rather than that which was not.
Nay, all mean to be desired of but not all were meant to be.
And here, herein, is the conundrum.
That which I see is a good looking copy of that which I cannot see. That which I cannot see, its figure lies hidden, must be a better form of that which I see in my minds eye placed gently infront of me today. However, knowing that this may also be that which lies in the future instills a fearfull worry of 'missing it'. And that. That fear is your answer.

That which is to be desired of is void of fear.

Thereby this cannot be that.
The present desire which means to be desired of is not the desire which was meant to be desired of.

I must then wait.