Worlder

A restless craving,
Churns in his heart;
For a light he cannot see,
A warmth unknown;
There are aching voids:
Yawning chasms
Within his soul,
That tinsel pleasures
Can never fill.
His hope is ever
Gilding a future,
That the present denies;
Lured and bedazzled,
He pursues the phantom;
Never coming to know,
The object of his search,
Is as far from him
As ever!