The Journey Home

There is something missing,

Something devoid, a void,

We know it is empty,

We fill it with plenty,

We avoid,

We try to have it destroyed.

A void within the soul,

A hole, not whole,

It seems to cry out for something sole,

It takes its toll.

The soul whispers, mumbles, roars, and screams,

A desperate howl,

A hoot from a distant owl,

But why, and how?

The soul reverberates a decree, a plea,

For release;

For the pain to decrease, to cease

For internal peace.

The soul urges you,

To consider the risk of destruction,

It implores for you to seek more,

To attempt re-construction.

To consider, and deliver,

That there is something, anything,

But before,

For you to answer the knock on the door.

To move forward, toward,

To progress amidst distress:

Before you are diseased,

Deceased.

But how do we heal?

How do we feel?

How Do We Break the seal?

How do we no longer kneel?

How do we know what is real?

Where do we start?

This I impart,

Follow your heart.

We long to be free,

To truly see,

To have clarity, serenity,

Beyond serendipity & pity,

To reach the glistening city.

No longer distracted by all that is pretty.

To envision a morn,

To leave behind the worn norm,

The indoctrination to conform.

To be reborn.

We all yearn,

We long,

To return home,

To a place where we belong.

Your journey home,

It shall not take you long;

For you always had it,

All along.