I was born into this world searching
Purpose seizing and eluding all in one breath
Meandering hopes and dashes spring boarding for attention
And all the while sensing not yet
So, where do I go?
I don't know
But the journey doesn't stop with my hesitation
It flowers in its own season
Be it my winter; its summer
It all comes just the same
And I am left to ponder the commencement of some answer within
When its summer will be mine
The time when our flowers bloom in the same season
And when I know will come to sit readily on my soul
But until my gait clumsy flounders, on that which meanders
And I simply live