The Craft

The Craft

We looked high and low, for what we thought we eluded 

It's always been here, from the moment of our conception

When thought was realized in water, air, matter, in our coming

We knew not of this constant companion, awake nor asleep

In our closets of being we will obsess over it or be possessed by it

Born for it, nurtured for it, we will know our sense of purpose 

What we were born for, how we will live, how we will die

Many an existence have lived hauntingly failing for not knowing

Ignoring an ever present shadow, even in the darkest of nights

Or those wisely willing to listen, will be kept up late at night

We listen to this nocturnal orchestra as like creatures mesmerize us 

Songs remind us of the wind we can't escape, yet its presence we see and feel

We will come to know that more are the realities that eyes cannot see

Yet we breath and constantly need them for a sustained life

Relentlessly driven we will know what we love and how it loves us back

Brought to the line of near insanity, will we live out the meaning of our purpose?

All seeing eyes that look down on all, locked in by time

Those alike who will sure take nothing, as that when given and said, it's mine

Who is, and eternity kneels to, as all ever came from thought

Expressed in favor, as seen in all, that He has wrought

Your presence is felt far and wide in a world held in grip

Crying out for release, having no power to escape as it slips

Many are the possessed, the obsessed in a brief time

A battle rages for hearts, some ignorantly fearless in their prime 

The world may or may not remember us

Unlike some for whom the lights of fame and fortune shine 

Yet, behind the stage of world events we know the peace that results 

To know that we hone it, own it, and what it was truly meant to be