Where is my heart,
He asked in an aimless stagger,
This homeless endeavor,
Where is my heart,
He mourned in wordless ache,
Drifting on the breath of loss,
Transparent and insignificant,
Causation and blindness,
Men and madness,
Where is my heart,
He asked the sky,
Who asked the same,
The questions remains.

He asked apathy,
And he walked on,
He asked dignity,
And she walked on,
He asked love,
But love had gone.

He paced the beach,
And the sand held his steps
Till the tide tore through,
Washing away his proof of purpose,
He asked the waves,
Where is my heart,
Who asked the same,
And the questions remains.

He aged like the mountains,
Slow and steady cycling,
Breath a laboured practice,
Death a practiced labour,
To ever after is he praised,
With mortality stricken has he lost favor.

Where is my heart,
He asked in impoverished wonder,
The poor creaked like hardwood,
And answered his plea,
As only silence could.