Is hard to describe.
It is the kind of house that holds together though cement fails to fill the hollowed parts.
It is the kind of house that thrives on flames and sparks.
Could be miles away, but still I can proudly proclaim that I am home.
And I shall indeed be home.
And sometimes, I take to wandering beyond the reach of my maps
On those trips, I am rarely able to find the road back, but I know somewhere in the dense foliage, my home’s warm hearth is lit
And the ones I love wait for my return.
When I travel, and there is an unfamiliar fork in the road,
Whether I steer east or west, I trust I shall be received with open arms at the end of the lane,
And the kettle shall be boiling on the stove,
And the scent of baking bread shall drift from the kitchen,
And dinner shall be served at seven o’ clock.
And I need not always know where to go, because when I am lost, home will find me.
And when I need be lost, it shall set me free.
Is a place I’ve known well,
And it is a place that the future has yet to reveal.
There I shall stay,
There I am still.
Is where my heart shall stand still.