I search for Lawrence
as he hides in his memories;
I search for Lawrence
as he seeks shelter in tomorrow.
I uncover old wounds
and peek below the scabs;
I look for a thread of purpose
in his tangled mass of thoughts;
I decode latent messages
in yesterday’s scattered dreams.

I give up.
You cannot be found.
You are not in your thoughts
nor in your hopes
nor in your dreams.


Then I discover
That you here all this time,
you cheeky monkey.
Your being is the meaning;
your being in the purpose;
your being is the dream
to be lived in the moment.

Live free, my friend.