“Not My Home”

I once held the belief that my home was eternal.

It stood like a castle, a refuge without equal.

As a child, it was the largest, most impressive of buildings,

Covered with marble and lavished with gildings.

But as I matured, I discovered my error.

And when it was demolished, I gained a lifelong terror.

No building was secure, no house could be saved

From a zoning board’s wrath, or a developer’s spade.

Rough mountains, cleft valleys,

Bubbling rivers, cool streams,

Enliven my thoughts

Inhabit my dreams.

They waft, shift and fade

Like some immortal breeze.

My endless need for Home,

Just an immortal tease.

Never needed a pool or a wine bar or deck,

Never needed a man-cave or a theatre – what the heck!

No fancy workout room, or a garage for my car,

I now realize my home is wherever You are.

A building is not, nor can ever be Home.

It’s not what welcomes you when you end your last roam.

It’s not the glowing ember in the center of your heart,

Nor the draw that tugs at you when you are apart.

No matter how far you wander or drift,

No structure can ever repair such a rift.

The truest of Homes is the glint of a face,

The Love deep inside you, borne from place to new place.

A fleeting location, a temporary hold,

Four walls and a roof, they protect from the cold,

From the wind and the rain, perhaps the worst heat.

But even the most lavish are still incomplete.

They’ll never fill your soul with the comforting glow

That you gain from a Love, from a spouse or a beau.

When you’ve finally attained that utmost of attention,

A closeness unequaled, an undying affection,

Then, at last, you’ll discover a Home without equal,

That can’t be torn down, that won’t long for a sequel.

Your heart will expand with a warmth that’s unending,

And at last, you’ll have found something truly ascending.