The True Home

Home comes in myriad form

Molded, it changes based on desire

The real, the unreal

The tangible, the intangible

Home reflects in every fiber

Every aspect of our being

Home can be thought a location

One free from scorn

A place of comfort

A refuge

A fortress for you and you alone

Home can be a thing

One that delights

One that informs

One that grants insights

One that makes the heart sing

Home can be a person

One who is near

One who is far

One we let underneath the veneer

The mask we present to so many

One who looks up at the same star

And thinks of how we are

Home to me is a feeling.

It is both real

And unreal

It is as much where I lay my head

And where I eat my favorite dish

It is both where I feel challenged

And comforted

It is all the material things that I love

And all of the immaterial things I cannot place

I’ve found home in those who have weathered with me for years

I’ve found home in one-off encounters that never return

Home can’t possibly exist in one form

To say so would discount the complexity

The contradiction

The innate desire

Of people.

Home is a feeling because feeling

Is quintessentially human.