The search still continues,
For the most rare thing. . .
Cos without it my heart,
Is a burning piece.
Never felt nor heard,
Neither sought or given,
All my life a debris of pain,
People love me, but my love
For them turns stale when it reaches them.
The search still continues,
For that rare thing. . .
I've always sought it in me,
The perfect destiny,the perfect solitude,
But neither man is patient, nor is God.
It lies vast around me,
About myself but not in my reach,
The search still continues,
For that rare thing . . .
Subscribe to:
Post Comments (Atom)
No comments:
Post a Comment