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When I was a boy I searched the skies
For the truth, a star, and the worldly wise,
But ever the path of the brightest lay
On my neighbour’s roof, or another’s way.

So I chose a star and I called it ‘Dawn’
As the brightest light in a summer storm
And I charged it: ‘Lay out my future way
As bright as the path you trace today.’

But when I was older, learned and wise
I left the star in the drifting skies
And never a thought of the star was lent
While the truth, the star, and my faith was spent.

And when I was down, and worn, and thin,
I got to think what I might have been
And searched for the star in the drifting skies
And cried its name at the pale sunrise.

I’ve scanned and searched for a single star
Since the way of the world was far too far,
But all I get are the skies alight
Or a deep despair on a cloudy night!
-- David Lewis Paget

Most of these entries are being transcribed from journals and pieces of paper. Slowly.