My soul drifts off into the cold winters breeze, A shiver flows through me, As I set out to find the love I've been seeking my whole life. That one essence that make the strongest men weak, And makes the proudest man cry. The lingering need or forgiveness, The inkling of faithfulness, The feeling of hope, That rises with the sea, But falls back just as quickly as the ever changing tides. How often I've tried to keep my mind, set on an emotional blithe, But find that task in insuperable, Finding that path a never ending askew, Of teases, and treasures I shall never recover, For all of time I shall lend on looking, But no longer will hope fulfill my mind, For this is a wastrel feel. But wonder endlessly for a brief respite, From life's endless games for broken hearts, And missing minds.