It feels like all our lives we’ve been searching
Always trying to find something
Like there was a part of us incomplete
A deep wound we couldn’t treat,
At least not on our own.
That ache in our marrow, deep in the bone
The wanderlust that we cannot shake
No matter what title we achieve, how much money we make.
This hole can’t be filled with material possessions
Shallow relationships, scuba lessons.
It can only be filled by love and good deeds,
Love given without any heed
To reciprocation or personal benefit.
Only then will the darkness be lit
And the emptiness filled with peace.