The Researcher

Where is the one who sat and thought
Thought and searched for knowledge he sought
Read and looked, felt and worked, dreamed and schemed.
Was it for self or a loved one dear
Was it fear?
Who spurred the mind, lit the flame
Gave the strength, spent and spent
The precious life?
Was it for love?
Was it for hate of ignorance?
Was it because of hopeful glance
A pitiful stare, a face once fair
A soul laid bare?
Was sit a puzzle that intrigued the mind
An enigma to find another kind?
A game to be played
With light as a prize, love as a prize
Fulfillment a prize?
What made him care, what made him dare
To fight the crowd, conquer the loud
Bolster the cowed, make them proud?
Comes it from love
Comes it from hate
Comes it from God
To some, from fate?
However it happens, let it come not too late?

by Mary Burford

Other poems of MARY BURFORD (2)

Comments (1)

beautiful, i enjoyed reading this, very well written.