To Find It

Are you still trying to find it?

To hold it,

to place it?

Are you still trying to make it?

To own it,

to take it?

Are you still trying to be it

To live it,

and

to see it?

When did you last feel it?

...the true it,

...the real it?

Do you ever worry you missed it?

Or that,

perhaps

...it never existed?

Is it easier to act as though

you never wanted it at all?

Do you dwell on it again each year,

when lovely leaves begin to fall?

Do you find yourself

seeking it anew

in every aching piece of art?

And

does hope for it yet smolder

in a corner of your heart?

Yes -

do you still wonder

if you will find it

before

your time is through?

And

do you wonder if,

perhaps

it looks to find

and hold you,

too?