Source of the Search
The souls of the poets, unfettered, will soar
As they seek for the sources of Truth
Ofttimes the search seems about to bear fruit
But alas, they can never find proof.
They move with the wind oer woodland streams,
Across vast fields of grain
They reach the mountain’s lofty top
the deserts and the plains.
From north to south, from ocean to sea
Over waves turned white from foam.
They soar through countless shining stars
And places far from home.
From the endless depths of oceans to
The heavens far above
The souls of poets search for the source
Of truth, of joy, of love.
They learn, after lifetimes spent in quest,
After countless miles they’ve trod.
The source of all things that they seek
Begins and ends with God.