A sonnet--The Searcher

The Searcher


Here now, then gone, ephemeral at best,
Every happening in this lonely place.
The sun sinks in the ever grasping West.
The stars begin to wink in endless space.

The wind moans with the sound of desperation,
A coyote howls a long and distant wail,
An owl hoots with wisdom and elation,
I hear my own soft feet upon the trail.

I came here seeking God, myself and truth,
But I found music in the empty sky,
The fabled fountain of eternal youth,
The answer to the how and what and why.

I hear the sound of predatory thunder,
And I am filled with momentary wonder.

Ruth Powers, copyright, 2003

This poem was published in the magazine, "The Christian Communicator" and in the bilingual newspaper, "La Mission",in English and Spanish.

All poems on this blog are by me, and all are copyrighted.