I keep looking in all the places
of where you're supposed to be,
but I find no more than echoes.
Reflections, and whispers of my defeat.
I look behind me at my shadow and
watch it, constantly following me.
But for all of its unwavering support
it offers none of the comfort that I seek.
The sky, so vast, remains so blue
when in all my melancholy, I would think,
that it would have worn to gray
to match my deteriorating mood.
Around me the world is moving,
its dance forever unchanged.
And despite my wishing that it would,
not one thing was rearranged.
I am but a single person, insignificant,
and the world will not stop spinning for me.
But even so, I'll hope it will, until I can look
and find you where you're supposed to be.