There was a whisper of despondency betwixt my heart and lungs.
I called for peace and understanding when I thought I would find none.
My silent tearful screams of drunken pain rang louder than my art.
My fundamental flaws forbade then called the Saul within my heart.
Will I find You in the winter cold, in snow and freezing rain,
or in the warmth of friends and fires long of music and refrain?
Will I find You in the summer sun, in rays of golden light;
in cloudless days of blissful daze; oh, wordless wonder of the sky?
There were intrepid beating fickle fragments clinging to my veins.
I called for stillness, safe and somber; shy of emptiness and blame.
My trying soul could not sustain the farce of "time will heal the pain".
But then again I felt my mind go numb as sorrow was replaced.
Will I find You in the springtime bloom, in blossoms bursting free,
or in the placid tones of bub'ling brooks in vernal symphony?
Will I find You in the autumn chill, in brown and crimson song;
in gentle breeze of passing leaves that blows in soothing calm?
Where therein lay a hopeful joy or gleeful promise of reprise
I'll be responsive and a tenant of potential and surprise.
When repetition snakes it's hand within my reestablished charge
I'll be a stormy sieve of novel deeds that seeks to bring new start.
Will I find You in the natural laws that guide our hearts and minds,
or in restrictive sights and sounds made null by human ears and eyes?
Will I find You in this lifetime long; in temp'rate search for signs above,
or will I find You in my hopeful search for real and worthwhile love?
- Bo Michael King
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