The Searcher

The Searcher


Immensity packed down

Into a teenage womb?

Try stuffing stars into a suitcase

Or pocketing the moon!

How can the maker of it all become a fragile, microscopic clutch of cells?

Stripped of your glory,

You entered my story,

The author came to make my end his own.

You stooped down

To scoop me up

With your fortress-breaking, heart re-making, nail-pierced human hands.

I was frantically searching,

Instead I have been found,

By your wonder of wonders

Love