I’m searching for a place I cannot find. As a tip of a compass pulled Northward, I feel it’s sensation tugging my chest Leading to hints scattered in this life. Sometimes I listen to the whispers in the wind, Or read the code of the twinkling stars, Trying to unlock their delicate mysteries. I know they speak of the place I seek, Telling stories of grandeur veiled in delicacy. But as I absorb their foreign message, I know not what is said or how to find it. Instead, I get caught in their beautiful words, Hypnotized into thinking little, if anything, Except that I wish to speak like them.