THE SEARCH

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In the wake of the swan,
In the ruddy dawn,
In the ebb of the tide,
In the whisker’s pride.

At the pitter-patter of rain,
At the waxing disdain,
At the turmoils and foils,
At the laity’s toils.

But I found...
In the screeches and squeals,
In the emotional upheavals,
In the burning tears,
In the ink it smears.

At the eye of rage,
Bless my soul, I’m no sage,
At the anguish of passion,
At niceties of compassion.

Therein my inspiration lies.