To seek to seek is not to peek.
It means not weak but rather meek.
I chose to seek when things were bleak,
my tears a creek and cries great shriek.
When self we pique and lie we speak,
our fruit shall reek and havoc wreak.
Sometimes to seek is just a squeak,
a roaring creak, a prayer to tweak.
When losses streak, alone, no clique.
No chic, just bleak, and all hope leak.
Please hear me speak, we’re not the peak.
On all death sneak, all paths oblique.
With bones antique and frail physique,
the one to seek be not mystique.
To all who seek life more than eke,
be meek and seek the one unique.
Seek Seek Meek
By Paul R.S. Hanna
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