The Seeker

Wet expanse far till the horizon,

The sea murmurs in a gentle splash,

Lapped feet on wet sands stood,

No answers the waves send.

Sprawling leaves in green glory,

Under the sun stood the somber tree,

In the dance of shadows, caressing the barks,

The rustling leaves told no story.

Winds, winds in a sweeping rush,

Careless in a maverick play,

Eyelashes bore the brunt of speed,

Yet questions unaddressed as such.

Knocks repeat on the wooden door,

The caller pleaded to seek,

Remained the door like a mute relic,

From within, it unraveled no lore.

The doubts, untouched, uncared persist,

And the thoughts unheeded they drift,

If it ever came, the real story,

The seeker shall emerge from the mist.