Home

Not far away at all, it seems
lies the elusive object of our quest.
The island place where heaven floats
in some contrived delerium,
but that is not for us.  Arriving waves
will never beat upon that shore;
discarded sin will never store
the price of passage
on a someday flight.

Within us
is the hospice for our grief.
Soul food is  best ingested
not by mouth but through the mind--
as listening,  not by ear
but in a place apart,
upon the breath, the dark delight
of pure resounding quietness
to heal upon the absence of command.
That is where the wonder lies,

and there is peace
when listless light
begins to stretch the far-off
edges of the sky--

and there is home
to make release 
of each despairing sigh.
Forever home.
               ~

inspirationalfree verse

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