Long have I sought thee
Tortured years of aimless wanderings through an emptiness;
Groping hopefully, tearfully, futility through the all enveloping mists of monotonaus tomorrows.
For what? I know not.
Something...
Something...
Something...
Something...
An elusiveness always seeming just beyond the reach of my outstretched fingers-
I followed eagerly, excitedly, frantically-
Wherever each new fantasy born of desire should lead-
Empitness...
Emptiness...
Emptiness...
And finally, despair-
Please God, help me;
I hurt... I hurt...
Then
You-
written for my mother 1966