I search for the hands of my makers.
For they were the only partakers;
Founders of the world we tread.
Cannot put that thought to bed.
For they must dwell out beyond the edge.
Reaching them is something to which I pledge.
Not a dream but a promise I make.
From this goal no one can shake;
For my resolve is absolute.
To give up now would just pollute,
All the fibres that comprise me.
With such a notion I can never agree.
So to the road I was called.
By the prospects of discovery I was enthralled.
Days are gone but flying by;
My state of mind is so high.
It seems like I could soar.
Reach on up to heaven’s door.
Before that I must complete this quest.
To fail it would leave me depressed,
And so I walk the world unknown.
I do so completely alone.
Save for those who I do meet.
Each one is a brand new treat,
Of generous folk and cheery creatures.
It is easy to recall all their features.
Yet still I have not found my prize.
Regardless I am confident it will arise.
And so it does a few winters on.
When I stumble into halls forgotten.
Sad to say our makers are no longer here.
They have since departed our little sphere.
You might think that is the end.
However, following them I do intend.
Doubtful that I will live to see.
But passing on this torch it may one day be,
A dream realised to full potential.
That will be quintessential.