The Search
I placed the curse on my search
with expectations set disastrously high.
Remember the playground days
of cute smiles and sandy eyes.
Perhaps I own the fault
for looking for one
who understands the electricity
in the chord and twilight sky.
My eyes must stay open to all.
Maybe I need to close them
for a while. I need to
understand how silt is taken from water.
Come with me, you I haven’t met
yet. Appreciate the lights on the hill.
They look like candles burning.
Militia for the search beginning.