I've been searching for the divine,
For a vessel to put my existence into,
Preferably a one of value.

I'm weary of the same questions, same answers.
Same conversations, same jokes,
Same obligatory laughs.

Can I find a place to rest my heart
A space wide and warm and welcoming?

There's no nest for us here.
No friendly rest stop on our journey home.

We'll always find our trails unmarked,
Our paths yet blazed.

Greatness is ours,
But its road is filled with thorns and rocks
That prick our fingers, draw our blood.

Blood seeps the earth,
Sweat wets the brow.
No one said labor was for the fragile.