To find oneself—recalled anew—
I often wondered of its beneficial value.
An enigmatic phrase I could never understand—
An aimless soul-searching of some kind?
Nomadic expeditions to a far-off land?
A golden egg hunt to leave the world behind?

To find oneself at odds
With the elements of all we collect
Through travels worn—
Fire, dust and tears, well-tucked
Away by hot air that the gods
Themselves do scorn.

I...