Boxing the Compass

Seeking, searching ever more for my true love
I box the compass of my heart
and strain the gates that try to contain
all that is within me.

Where is the map,
the map that will bring me to you.
Its vellum is my skin
rubbed red from worry
at constant seeking.
Its markings are my tears
disappeared but for the faintest lines.
They provide clues but not destination

Where is the compass,
the compass that will point me to you.
Its magnet is my eyes
weary from searching through crowded lots
for the one true you.
Its needle is my extended arm,
ever reaching out but never clasped
in return.

Where is the sail,
the sail that will billow
with our united breaths.
Its luffing sheet is my fragile heart
in irons and barely beating,
waiting for love’s whisper and gust
to breathe life anew into me.

I know not what I search for,
or if it even exists..
yet I know it will be my home when reached.
Like explorers who have gone before me
I will not rest
Until that which I seek is found.
All the ends of the earth
will be gathered in my soul
and sifted through
until golden you
can be joined with tarnished me.
So until then,
I will not rest.

I quest.