I am seeking a calling,

Let me know if you have found one,
Because it is a wretched existence to be twisted up and wishing,
Though far preferable to living in the ignorance of it all,
For that is a deeper emptiness that compiles into poison,
And ruins all the bliss it seems to feed,

I am waiting for a call,
I sit by the phone watching for a ring,
As time passes, I become more desperate,
A buzz or a text even would do,

Purpose I have, but action I lack,
I wish to beat to a drum, but I cannot hear any music,
I don’t see any drummers,
When you call out and there is no call back,
Not even a voicemail or dial tone,
Where is there to go?

So we sit here restless by the phone,
Knowing that moving forward is no good,
Because forward is what needs illumination,

I wish to weave the fibers of the future,
Where is the pattern? Where is the thread?