The Seeker

This name, this title at least has been a constant in my writing for twenty years or more, this character in search of something lost. Often of course, as in this poem, the seeker is me in search of the remnants of a life taken to soon. I wrote a story in the early 00s about a boy searching for a way to live, a religion or a creed worthy of dedicating his life to, he was also called the seeker.

The Seeker

Where will I find you

 What lost corner of the world

 Contains your last breath

 What fragment of time

 Contains the essence of your passing

 Where should I look.

 The journey takes me down

 Twisted backstreets

 Of a tortured mind

 But you’re not there.

 On distant horizons a shape appears

 The edge of time

 The plane between here and there

 The moment before wakefulness

 The secret world of dreams

 In these places I can almost see you

 I can almost touch you

 I can cling to your nearness

 In a confused melody that slips away

 In a scent I almost remember

 A taste of once upon a time

 Try not to think, let it come

 But then it flees

 before a stricken cry

 And is lost again in time

 From the corner of a tearful eye

 From the haze of fragmented memory

 In the midst of madness.

 And on the seeker goes

 In search of dust

 In search of air

 In search of light

 In search of you.


© Dave Kavanagh @ 2015

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