See and hear the author read this poem at:
http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=kgqy8o4ejf4
Endless Quest
It was cast as my destiny, centuries past,
Ere the century when I was born,
That my life would be spent in an endless quest
Until sounds St. Gabriel's horn.
I'm the pattern for picture puzzles,
With the puzzle missing one piece,
And I fly the sky from north to south
Like the wandering Canadian geese.
I check each lake, and I check each pond
And each lonely country road,
And I ask each witch and god and seer
What the future years will bode.
Be it she devil, witch, or the siren's song
That calls through the chilly air,
Or a mermaid's song from a rocky isle,
Or the song of a milk-maid fair,
That will someday fit, where that missing piece
Still looms in that empty space,
And the right scent, and the right taste
Will all fall into place.
From: The Beckoning Hand
Copywrite 2006 © James Walter Orr