Coming Home

COMING HOME

I weep

the way a waterfall does,

standing still in jubilance as mountainous waters

flow over me.

I can barely stay conscious drenched in such ecstasy.

Yet, somewhere in my bones

I know I am flying into a constant state of such a thing.

I am like a traveler

having re-entered the space surrounding home once again!

To turn away now, would be equivalent to cutting my engines

and choosing to lay desolate, hanging in the black of space

on the periphery of and between all the worlds of forever.

Yet, to gather myself in constancy

beyond the journey itself,

is the gift.

Comments are closed.