once again I'm leaving the people I used to call home.
They say home is where the heart is,
but my heart spews so far and wide
that I no longer understand the meaning of home as a substantial thing.
Home for me is travel.
Home is being one place and missing another.
I suppose we all eventuallt hit the age where we realize home cannot be consolidated.
Home can't be held or captured, it can't be tamed nor caged.
I suppose the width and length of a persons home should be measured in similarity with their heart.
I guess you could say that; how big a persons heart is should be able determine
by how many homes it holds in it's
continuously beating compartments.
It's a dangerous thing; the thought of a permanent home for my heart.
It's a scandalous thing to dare shut out the continual question;
where does my heart truly live?
Is it unfair to judge a home by the current presence of your heart and wether or not it's engaging well in an atmosphere?
It's a dangerous thing; the thought of a permanent home for my heart.
It's a scandalous thing to dare shut out the continual question;
where does my heart truly live?
Is it unfair to judge a home by the current presence of your heart and wether or not it's engaging well in an atmosphere?
The heart is deceitful above all things and I sure don't understand it.
I feel as though permanence in love is a deceitful tide with a constant whiplash affect.
And it is completely, indisputably, unfair.
But what if I dared to present the possibility
that yes ; " Home is where the heart is"
but logistically speaking
the heart is carried around in ones chest,
making it mobile,
making it mold-able to situations and change.
What if the home isn't where the heart is;
But instead home is carried i the heart;
it is protected and preserved there until you can reach your eternal home.
If home is where the heart is;
And your carrying home around with you;
Doesn't that make you and I carriers of the heavenly realm?
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