Will the undiscovered future
answer to this current past?
Will it know me when I arrive,
lucid yet not alive?

The answers come in life,
but then they never end.
And they become questions again;
they fuse into one big connection
that doesn't fit.

I can't live without it,
I don't know how to stop.
There won't be another day
where my mind doesn't run off
in search, in hopes
of the refuse, the driftwood,
the hold-over to keep me afloat;
to keep my head from sinking below
the life that will drown me.

And it will never stop.
I'll keep looking, hoping,
until I'm at my end;
a search for a missing person

who will never be seen again.
We're only strays.
Last edited by Martyr's Prayer at Aug 29, 2011,