Found too soon

So trapped I am in the inertia of searching,
this groping for a lost key in broad daylight,
for so long now since my memory failed me,
I won't even know I've found it,
when I lay my hands on it by chance.

Instead, the search will go on;
a never-ending cul-de-sac
all along the imperfect circumference
of this perfect circle of my life.

A borrowed life, no less,
a life in debt ,I live,
in a world so deserted,
my screaming voice drowns completely
in the overwhelming sound of its own echo.

Still, the voice calls out madly,
as time ticks on,
and the hands vainly grope in hope,
faintly in tune with the needle on the clock,
until it's key is unwound,
And the moment of truth arrives,
so much without fanfare,
if life is so fully of irony, as I am afraid it is,
that is when the key is found.