Far Away From Home
Like a somnambulist, I tread upon this path
And then, just as I hear the rustling of leaves,
I am reminded…
These leaves, these displaced leaves remind me of the half finished coffee cups, that clamoured almirah, the charcoal sky and our laughter wrapped in our arms.
)
As I walk upon them, these freckled leaves remind me that once they were laden with life,
Dew kissed their glistening bodies.
But that was when there were there, there on that tree,
Here, here on this branch…
When birds chirped on these branches and worshipped love in these leafy shrines.
It was when they were at home.
But that was long ago.
And now, as I leave them behind,
I step outside and the earth seems to be so distant.
Like a flickering flame, it glows.
But it is distant.
It once belonged to me and I was embraced by it.
But my horizons have expanded,
I am now a cosmos native.
I belong to these galaxies, these meteors.
Am I already beyond the earth?
Have I crossed the Milky Way?
Have I emigrated from my home or am I an immigrant to this universe?
No I am not an alien.
Far away from home, as my memories become hazy and known facts become distorted,
I tell myself that I am not lost.
My guitar, those coffee cups, those cozy evenings and my Earth: They are growing distant.
Distant and dimmer as I surge ahead.
And yet, why is it I feel that I am carrying it with me…my home…everyday.