I was born a seeker.
A seeker
Of the darkness, a seeker of the supernatural
Light reflecting a heavenly glow, turning
On slow, in the Los Angeles
Mist of summer.

I rode the bus to places unknown, longing,
And searching for a home, looking for something
Larger- bigger than us, something which couldn’t
Be grasped in my fingertips.

I was seeking something which couldn’t be swayed
By the languid winds, a feeling, a place
I dreamed of once on a cold, barren night,

I was born a seeker, so I looked above
For the answers in the celestial bodies,
The twinkling stars in the skies or
The twinkling stars in some strangers' eyes.

I climbed the mountains, and fell just
As hard as I rose. I searched for the vastness
In ancient poetry and prose

I was burned by forest fires,
And burned by my own untamed desires,
Wild under a blue moon,
Hoping to find a feeling
Which would make me swoon.

I was born a seeker, and to this day,
I am not quite sure
What I was hoping to find.