Home Is Where

Home is where . . . The heart and reason mould into one and the same mirror of harmony . . . the Golden Mean and centre of gravity as long as life’s turns spin around . . . where dents in the mind do not mind but care kindly about gaping gaps . . . when time juggles dis-synchronous consolation in the face of chaos Memories and anticipation caress the wayward traveller into the harbour . . . the ancient light house guides pirates of doom into tender submission . . . where hidden treasures are felt beneath a dented compass’ rusty needle . . . when jubilation overwhelms caved in darkness at the point of confusion Vision and hindsight blend ambiguity and opposites of fragile consonance . . . the myopic lenses lead the way from afar towards what can be touched . . . where shattered glass causes new puzzles and chards for luminous mosaics . . . when an empty canvas is shredded but gives way to a collage of dreams Deafness and laughter combine to a symphony of understandable voices . . . the auricles are pierced and adorned with truths and rings of delight . . . where an ear for an ear is not an empty promise but sharing the way . . . when the few want to listen to an old man’s attempt of feeble wisdom Bones creak on the spiral staircase and master the voyage downwards and up . . . the attic hold enough trinkets and memorabilia for a flea market or two . . . where moths in the cellar feed happily in symbiosis with trodden dust . . . when paradise is being in love and sharing glow worms and outlooks Home is when the Self is good enough and life’s companion is gratitude A Golden Mean happy to eat from enamel plates one spoon and a tin whistle Light shines through cataracts of wild water and cascades of living surprise Nostalgia is a way forward on the path one step at a future step in the making Shades of eye sight observe perceive reflect condense highlighting the soul A child’s whisper registers more deeply than cacophony of ubiquitous hatred And the bones of one’s hands can still read a book and write the odd poem . . . 17th April 2019