We are in constant search of their kind

In our everyday travels we find

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A measure, a notion to confine

Our basic need to again define

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Those simple truths, the layers we thought

That help us ascertain who we are we’re naught

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A given moment of clarity in a stroll

Allows us to redefine who we are by role

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Life is a stage as Shakespeare calls it

Every day we are searching to be part fit

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When really if we relax our mind

We might once again come to find

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The simple truths are right before our eyes

Standing elegant laughing aloud as we cry

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Out-loud with frustration souls having succeeded

In again and again crawling where we are needed

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Yet even as we stand alone in eloquent fashion

Are not we still fighting to be guided by notion

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We are developed, designed, desired

By mankind a sort of wondrous kind sired

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A spoken wisdom that only admired again

May remind our selves of a time we began

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To mellow our souls without leading constant battle

To designate the will of our own constrained saddle

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Indeed, it may very well turn to a quiet reality

That cast a spell of ridicule upon our sanity

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For isn’t it then quite simply the discovered truth

That the human condition when in pause feels youth

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The elder passage of time that may recognize august

Again asked to have patience and simply adjust