The Quest

Watching old home movies, the seeds so evident

Little did I know back then what my tapping fingers meant

A compulsive urge to hum a tune, to touch a piano key

In every sound and rhythmscape, I found a piece of me

The picture began to become more clear,

My purpose more firmly grounded

The day I sat at my brother's drums,

Picked up his sticks and pounded

I felt the ceiling open up, heart and mind were lifted

This primal force convincing me, my goals in life had shifted

Then I learned a few guitar chords just to seal the deal

The power of music I could not ignore, the surge inside

Me real

I plucked away at Misfits' tapes 'til I could play along

Then came the happiest day I've known- when I wrote my first song

A few interruptions since, I'm back where I belong-

Pen and paper, sticks and strings, the quest for the

Perfect song