The endless search for purpose in our lives,
The painful lurch of victory and loss,
The answer to the quest one may despise,
If solitude is blest and is the cost.
For endless passing years, great men did think,
Their everpresent fears of pointless life,
Their solitude in searching for the link,
Dare I intrude to quench abstractest strife?
For here I stand, a youngling to be sure,
Not yet a man, a thinker premature,
I now believe I know the very cure,
And yet I fear to show what I endure!
Despite my tendency to search alone,
Love has been shown to be the thing unknown.
© Jerusalemrising (Tyler O’Neil)
Written December 30, 2006
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