Captain Pike's Ship Log II

IS IT ALL A LIE?

I look to the distant shore for the answer.
Perfectly flat, certain, perspective -- NOTHING.
A lark slices laboriously beyond the Birches.
A small, tired, winged insect longs to get in.
My Heart beats slowly, patiently.
My mind nervously flits to urging tasks undone.
Discarded paint cans catch my eye.
Beauty, reflected in their rain polluted brimming.
A project started, interceded by secret lust.

I leave now, again unsure.
Useless questions still unanswered.

Happiness is maybe not an outward quest!

How do I look inside myself?