There’s a depressive knowing in the setting sun,
that at the end of the day you’re surrounded by no one.
As the rays of light fold behind mountains stronger than your crumbling self-esteem,
you’ve got the world to glean, but no where to lean.
Set forth your step, trekking so far–
there’s no denying where and who you are.
The embrace you’ve ached for is missing yet again,
and your mind openly exchanges handshakes and shares war stories with it’s demons.
Hands shoved into your pockets as you walk down this path,
Through traffic, between trees, over streams that ripple gently in the breeze,
The eyes in your head glassy with emotion,
as you believe whole-heartedly that your life is the equivalent of a dark, deep ocean.
Full of tenderness, overflowing with fear of the unknown, you find yourself lost on the way to no home.
The keys in your pockets that once opened a door
no longer have ridges,
rust covers them dutifully like antiques in an antique store.
And as the magnitude of your isolation sets in,
you’ve lost it again. Again, and again.
The pain knows no boundaries as you lay on the hard cement floor,
the suffering seems endless, you can’t hold it in any more.
You’re sure you are dying, you’re so certain your last breath is this next one,
and just as you breath it in a light turns on in the house.
A laugh is heard by your deafened ears,
and a quiet step nears you.
Unsure of what is to come, you freeze!
The worry of bothering someone brings you great dis-ease,
and you pull it together just to stand,
as the door opens easily and out extends a gentle hand.
“Come forth my loving friend, you’re never alone.
My home is your home, you’re bound to be found,
always connected to us by a cord, gently tugging you inward
rest assured you’ve never been lost, only wandering in order to find yourself.”
A crippling feeling overwhelms your cells,
as the tear stains wipe easily away with a sleeve.
You gaze into eyes with wrinkles at the edges,
a smiling face–an extended hand–the joy here seems like no mans land.
“But why would you welcome me?” you stutter with fear,
hoping the answer would be less than painful to hear.
But the voice is so beautiful and lends you sweet, sing-songing laughter,
“Don’t worry, love is more rampant a thing than all of that.”
And without a second thought you transcend above your concerns,
You grasp a new hand, one you will soon find so dear,
you allow that sweet, gentle soul to show you the light.