"Untitled"

lobb152

What is it that you hope to find: the experiences that make up the sacred in our lives. Those feelings that tell us we’re ourselves. The idea that our past seems frozen upon the future. Or the hope that we'll find our home as we run in every other direction. Though we’re the author of our own story upon reading we find only strangers; it’s the notion that we cannot save an untitled poem with a name.