Finding.

It’s a quest; a desire; a longing

It’s right outside of my pathetic grasp

Not quite obtainable; curious thing

And while I wait; wait for time to elapse

I’ll do something to expand my chances

Be productive; be transparent; be kind

To discover the unknown expanses

Of my changing uninhabited mind

Because that’s what I’m searching for; myself

A clue; a hint; I must find in my head

Somewhere in there on a forgotten shelf

A morsel of a wisper, not yet dead

With nothing to guide me except shear chance

Could miss it in a single passing glance

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