Philosophy of Home
This brown rusted bench
Reminds me of you.
How we sat together
Hands in hands
Near the lake shore of Ravi
Our cold breaths colliding with our passion
In the month of hot April
Looking over the horizon.
But as I stole my glance from it
And looked into your heavenly eyes
I realized that I was born to look in them.
In those eyes
I saw someone
Staring back at me
Breathing into infinity
For in that second I found myself
For in that single second
I traveled into myself
For in that moment
I was completely Free
There’s a place far from here
Bigger than the flying sky
Farther than the whispering stars
A long road leads to that lonely place
Passing through the desert
Wading through the forest
Crossing the highest mountains
Alongside a vast grey river
Under the shadows of rusted leaves
There’s a place where I don’t feel alone
It’s a place where I don’t feel lost
A place built of dreams
A place where I feel… Home
And I will be waiting for you
Waiting for you to come Home. . .
winds are a bit cold,
fog gives a unique refreshing bold.
winter is definitely on its way.
I’m finally back at the place,
where I belong,
to my home.
But this home doesn’t feel like before.
People are strange,
their visage is layered with different face,
the smell has an entire new taste,
I can’t hold this emotional state,
tears are rolling down my scarred soul.
I feel alone,
more than ever.
And when I think that perhaps,
it is I who have changed.
Out of all the people,
I hope you understand.