As the sun begins to rise on yonder ridge and morning dew drips down like heaven’s tranquil, my soul is stirred with thoughts of days gone by and a yearning for a home now far behind me.
But home, I find, is not a place merely, for it’s a feeling that nurtures the soul. It’s not a static thing, that stays the same, but moves and shifts, like the breeze and the rain.
For though my home is off the beaten track, I find that home is still something I can find. It’s in the people that I love and cherish the most, preserved in the endless tapestry of memories entwined.
It’s in the laughter of my kindred and constants, and in the beauty of the world that surpasses all. It’s in the love that flows within and between us. and in the hope that together we can endure the storm.
So though my anguish may come and go, as the tides of life may rise and fall, I know that home will always be hither, in the love and memories of my evermore.
For home is not a place or time, but a feeling that transcends all clime, and though it may be fickle and fluid, it’s a constant that will never cease.
Concealed within woven layers of self doubt, a beautiful and intricate tapestry of the soul, yearns to unwind and reach those places where no awl could fathom it’s miseries or mysteries about itself. Oh let my soul unwind, cocoon me in its warm abstract glow and bridge gaps between the known and the unknown.
Black and white people with red and blue hearts, pink and orange in mind, picture a sunrise here and a sunset there. And yet others, with violet and golden in their eyes capture a moonlit desert.
Dried streaks of black and white on this canvas of mine Splash it with colors when it’s moist and gray Add some yellow to its blues And redness to its pale face Plant fresh greens in its old brown embrace.