Why do I keep
Looking for that which
I will never find
Not that it’s lost
It’s just never been
By virtue of that
Is it a dream
Or is it creation
For everything that is
Was once was not
And then suddenly was
So perhaps even maybe
I will find that
What is in here
Some where out there
Wouldn’t that be marvelous
You only ever miss
Something until you can’t
We never really realize
How lucky we are
When we are lucky
We always seem to
Be looking somewhere else
When where we are
And what we’re doing
And who we’re with
Will one day be
Long gone and then
When it’s too late
We will miss now
Then
I have spun my
Wishes together combining threads
Of person and place
Into my futures tapestry
To either hang huddle
Or hold against me
But really to share
With another woven therein
I have finally decided
That rather than wait
That I would ask
The Universe for someone
Creator of the Universe
Appear before me this
A Spanish pianist composer
In his early forties
Intense shy and passionate
Whose fingers speak music
Whereas mine speak words
And together create songs
Telling of mysteries and
Of adventures taken or
Simply quietly wished upon
At the point of
The candles last flicker
And our first sunrise
To know yourself is
To know God itself
For whatever you imagine
Can be by simply
Seeing it before it’s
Seen by others trust
That what you see
Is real and go
Find it or make
It so for those
HARLAN DIDRICKSON 