A Song of the Seeker's Way
The Infinite Pursuit

I have wandered the long paths asking, and asking
Through cities teeming with ten thousand voices
Across prairies where wildlife share secrets to the wind
Along the edges of oceans that know no boundary but sky
What am I hunting, the question itself is the chase
Fleet-footed, dissolving like mist when I approach
Reappearing at dawn with new contours, new promises
Always one horizon beyond my grasping hands
I have sought it in the faces of strangers
In the eyes of lovers who swore they held the answer
In books whose spines broke open like portals
In silence so deep I could hear my own blood singing
The hunt, the hunt, it is everything
The compass spinning wild in my chest
The magnetic pull toward some unnamed truth
The footprints I leave that become the path itself
Sometimes I believe I have caught it
In the cry of a newborn, in the last breath of the dying
In the moment between sleep and waking when I am neither
In the taste of bread broken with friends around a simple table
But it slips through my fingers like water, like light
And I am glad, yes, glad
For what would I become if the hunt were over
A creature at rest, a fire gone cold
No, I am the arrow and the archer both
I am the scent on the wind and the hound that follows
I am the question that generates questions
The seeking that justifies the soul's existence
Perhaps we are not meant to capture meaning
But to be captured by the search itself
To find our purpose in the perpetual pursuit
In the holy, trembling act of wondering why
I hold within me the hunt and the hunted
The empty-handed return and the abundant harvest
The despair of the missed shot and the ecstasy of the near-miss
For they are not separate, they are the same beating heart
So, I will continue, footsore and faithful
Through all the countries of being and becoming
Knowing that what I seek seeks me also
That the hunt itself is the meaning I have been hunting all along
Whoever walks this earth as wanderer, as worshiper, as lover of leaving
Join this expedition toward the unknowable
For we are all hunters of the infinite
And the trail goes on forever, blessed and unending
About the Creator
Tim Carmichael
Let your becoming be louder than your fear, and your smallest steps become the road you once thought impossible to walk. An Appalachian poet and cookbook author my book Beautiful and Brutal Things is on Amazon, Link 👇
Enjoyed the story? Support the Creator.
Subscribe for free to receive all their stories in your feed. You could also become a paid subscriber, letting them know you appreciate their work.
Comments
There are no comments for this story
Be the first to respond and start the conversation.