What unforeseen force determines our course
On journeys throughout our days?
What drives the notions to cross deep oceans
That for some, become early graves?
What causes our dreams that move us it seems
To continually seek higher ground?
To discover new worlds in deep space that swirls
Like windmills ‘round and ‘round?
What made DaVinci a Renaissance Man
And Shakespeare a writer extolled?
How did Einstein think out there on the brink
Relative to light, young or old?
What ran through the veins of Mahatma Gandhi
Or Martin Luther King?
And what magic arose when Beethoven composed
Or Sinatra learned how to sing?
I duly confess, I’ve detoured no less
Than countless times through the years;
But like an arrow flying I keep on trying
To hit bulls eye, nice and clear.
Though Robert Frost I’ll never be
Ansel Adams or Henry Ford;
Still I keep striving like each of them
For something deeper inside to explore.