Is it in love?
Or is it in poetry?
Is it in music?
Or some other great artistry?
Is it in nature..
Hiding, exposed?
Or is it right here,
Just under my nose?

If I can smell,
And see, touch and taste,
And even hear it,
Then is it the case....
That I can do anything,
Be who I choose?
If all is nothing then
I've nothing to lose!

So why scribble on
Unsure and confused,
If it's here should I grab it
And put it to use?

Or is it my scribblings,
Unclear as they are,
The very things guiding me,
My bright northern star?

And if I keep scribbling
Will I scribble the truth?
The truth of my purpose,
however uncouth.

So I'll keep on scribbling,
For it's all that I know,
And maybe one day,
Deep into my soul I will go.

And there it will be,
Worthy and Strong,
Asking how I could ever
Pretend I was wrong.