Posted on in My Creative Content, Poetry

i swindled the dawn of my youth –
displaying my wares, hawking my supposed genius
among my peers; yet, hawkers we all were
selling to the highest bidder what we were

now I know that when you don’t know
who you are, to Whom you belong
life is spent, really – life is spent –  
running, searching, searching –

searching for what you already have;
searching for what has already found you


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