On the surface of the bay

If the longing subsides, what then? Is there a level of contentment that comes with age, perhaps reflection regarding accomplishments, discoveries and consideration of all that you've seen and been through.
But that desire, the one that remains nameless, will it be named later? I think not. I think things of importance just fade and become new things or kids and other distractions. We get an inkling every once in awhile that the underneath is still simmering and vital. Yet with that comes the unrequited and frustration of the unknown. It's all the same, but with a little paunch and some gray at the temples.