I was adrift, aimless, looking for something I'd lost,
Not knowing what I was in search of...
Not even knowing that I was in pursuit,
But encountering many that wanted to lend a hand.
Some gently tugged at my heart, and some pulled on my arm,
One leaned heavily on my shoulder and a few moved my soul.
One glibly stole all my trust...
And thumbed the pages of the script without regard.
The paradox of that minor one-act-play, that fleeting work of fiction,
Is that after the curtain closed and the lights went down,
I looked out past the stage to find…
One faithful fan remained, had been there all along,
Standing in the footlights… the authentic program in hand.

* de - october 2000