The Hunt for Meaning

I dig where words collapse

beneath cracked earth of thought,

where silence hums with possibility.

Every clue is a fragment:

the light through a glass of water,

the ache in an old song,

the way dust drifts in prayer-like spirals.

Meaning hides not in answers

but in the pursuit itself

a shimmer on the surface of the mind’s lake

that vanishes when I lean too close.

I have found only echoes:

my own voice returning, altered.

Still I call,

and the call becomes my faith.