The Seeker

What do I hope to find from within my rhythmic words?
With pen that drips with golden phrase, I cross swords
with my perceptions. Do I seek for solace, peace of mind,
Or for hidden answers? Are my poems the ties that bind
me to my inner feelings, do they facilitate reflection?
Do I strive to impress or try to achieve perfection?
Optical illusions are just realities faceted faces.
Do I seek to leave for history, part of me in traces
on virginal white page, do I want to exert my authority?
Do I seek to speak out for the downtrodden minority?
Am I reaching for the stars, to find an exalted place?
Do I try to bridge that gap twixt time and wondrous space?
What am I looking for, why torment myself with rhyme?
For whom does the bell toll, do I hear it's foreboding chime?
For whom do I write, do I search for my elusive soul?
Do I know what I seek, do I have an agenda or a goal?
Do I try to inspire others, try to lead, to show a way
to understanding, to acceptance, seek others minds to sway?
Do I seek to change and to warm a heart that's chilled?
This seeker, seeks only to write poems, to be fulfilled.