Chasing, desperately grasping,
A sense of lacking, all pervading,
Happiness, something to be lived up to,
Sought after, wrestled to the ground.
Looking outward, searching, elsewhere,
Waiting for the, “someday,” this present we bear,
Plan, wish and hope it may find us,
As if it were something to be found.
Battered and worn, fallen again,
Wearied and broken in sorrowful pain,
Rest gently now, within the silence,
What was never lost may now abound.