Poetry

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I am so compelled
I hear it in the whisper of what I need to do
It flows through my every thought, my every imagination
I know what it is, yet haven't the faintest clue

It's not something that can be found
but finds it's way to you
A foreign kind of language
A foreign kind of truth

A deeper kind of understanding
One that changes the way we are
A kind of thing that defines
Brings Measure to a heart

For I am so compelled
I hear it in the whisper of the wind
snatched away by the wings of the morning
What is it then?
Purpose

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