We live in a mismatched world. We play the part we're told to with little regard for talent or courage.
There is no "right-fit." The papers can only print the words "generalization," "racism," "sexism," "misunderstanding." We're all a crazy bunch of kids running in circles in need of something to hold onto.
In this world that can't distinguish the grays, how are we supposed to respond then to a beckoning?
If some meaning calls out can we even hear it through the salt and pepper fights on the screen?
Home isn't a place you live, it's not a location, or even a state of being.
Where do you belong, where you mean something, where you smile:
That's the hint of home, the teaser of the rich secret.
The forest, the trees.
The sea, the waves.
The meadow, the flowers.
The stage, the thrill.
The knowledge, the books.
The sounds, the music.
That's finding it,
Get on your way,
Home.
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