Home

I pace up and down the rows of my weightless thoughts,

Wondering when an idea will drop.

Still, unaware of where I am to go,

Still, unaware of what I do not know.

In every empty row, is a person who’s forgotten their way home;

But to know how to get there is one thing,

To know what it is, is another.

So here I am to plunder, what a home might mean to me,

Where it should be and how it should feel;

What it might bring me, and how it could heal.

All the lonely rows I walk up, then walk down,

Listening to my empty thoughts, in hopes to hear a sound.

Though, nothing comes from my hallow mind,

Nothing; But myself in these vacant rows of mine.