Whatever you were looking for
could not be found

We are, all of us, lost. But we can take some consolation in poetry.

Lost

Desolate and lone
All night long on the lake
Where fog trails and mist creeps,
The whistle of a boat
Calls and cries unendingly,
Like some lost child
In tears and trouble
Hunting the harbor's breast
And the harbor's eyes.

--Carl Sandburg