the end of belonging

your home is exile

the one you want you’ll have in not having

and walk her paths longing for what you imagine

touch the earth yet wish it held you

your home is already lost to time

and we’re made this way

to long for what we lose

or have but still want


(Discovered this poem recently, it continues to haunt.  - R.H.B.)

  1. whatblowsthewind posted this