I write for what I hope to see,
A reflection staring back at me.
An answer to my lifelong query,
And though I am already weary,
Fingers worn down to the bone,
I have but one dream that I own.
I hope to one day write a spark,
That will shatter the murky dark,
Surrounding who I am to me,
My reflection staring back at me.
And if the answer is in my pen,
I guess that I will know it when,
Its stokes create a crystal mirror,
Into which my soul can peer.