Home is Where the Heart Lives

It's 3am on Friday

and you lie awake

homesick for a place you've never had a home.

These walls

leave you trapped.

listening as sirens of emergency vehicles

pierce the silence of darkness

screaming of urgency and

immortality.

You yearn

for the pines that whispered of breath

for the rivers that spoke to you of forever and

release.

The essence of espresso

of used book stores

of mountains

of lavender

and free spirits;

they beckon you home

away from the oppression

the suffocation

of this run down society

which values putting one foot in front of the other

faster than the soul can formulate direction.

 

We're all running

in the direction of burnout

each of us

a carbon copy of one another.

Each of us

the same:

moving too fast

afraid being still means regressing

afraid that travelling

outside the scope of our tunnel vision

will leave us lost and alone.

So we follow the footpaths of society

instead of the destiny paths

of our soul

 

Our journeys

are etched behind our eyelids

yet most of us are left

moving too fast;

we can only read these maps

in the stillness of our dreams

but you

you

I hope you never let your eyes

stay open

longer than your heart

so you may always be left with the

wanderlust

inscribed within your soul.

 

This city holds no home for you

outside of the home within yourself.

Everyone here

is searching so hard

when contentment

lies simply

behind the stillness of closed eyes.  

 

I want you to thrive

in the evergreen forests

where everyone speaks the language of your soul

without ever whispering a word

where everyone

is a carbon copy of each other

not because you are all the same but

because you are all one

and together

you are all moving

in the direction

of home.