There is something in me, a restless scampering.

My eyes, on frantic search for my heart’s pampering?

From person to person my heart is on the hunt,

Desperate to gain that for some pain I may blunt?

Does it depend on me to find what brings me peace?

I fear that if that’s true, this hunt will never cease!

If the pitcher inside is empty as I feel

Have I poked holes in it? Or is something else real?

Am I using people to get what God can give?

If that’s true, no wonder my heart feels like a sieve!

It seems that my giving that wants to fill my friend,

Is laced with self, in hopes, that my pain I transcend.

But there’s a deeper thirst that calls my heart to rest!

Where scampering’s absurd, madness, a crazed fool’s quest!

I know the place my heart can find its place to rest.

The Father’s heart, His Son, His love for me expressed.

Seth