Soul searching…deep and bloody,
A soul pure in its ignorance, stunted in cynicism
Bleeds to dull the pain.
This pain is not physical–it is spiritual;
Like thirst, it is teased by the eternal mirage.
Crawling through the sand, it sifts through my fingers
As sand through an hourglass is bound to do,
Parched, I search on, confused.
History held the answer…their answer for their time,
Passed on, an amalgam of what the past held true.
Each thought they were right, that they knew,
Yet they knew no more than their predecessors,
Just as I know no more than mine.
So I hunt, swallowing pieces of the puzzle;
Never sure of the truth,
Always one piece short.
~~ Dominic R. DiFrancesco ~~