My Blog

Poetry

   Thu, July 17, 2008 - 1:13 AM


Home
as a place, as a name
is the first
- mistake.


This is - only
a drive to the pier,
the end of another winter
on a familiar ground.


Home is not where the story begins
but -
where the story unfolds.


It's the corner on the road
that catches your eye
and drives you on & on - onto a broken path.
It's the dot of light in the distance
from your window
where rests your soul.
It's the spot in the shade
where everything
may - or may not - happen.


Home is not a fixed person
or -
a cross on your travel map.


It's where you go to
& yet - where you are.
It's where imagination is let
- free.
Home is in your hands
it's in my voice
this very minute,
as I am talking to you.






1 Comment

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Sat, September 13, 2008 - 8:57 AM
is it potraying philosophy being poetical or reflecting poetry being philosophical... i wonder ... Good work... [:P]