Home is a place, they say.
Home is a place of comfort.
What if home is not a place?
What if home is a person?
What if...

Home gives us love.
Home gives us comfort.
Home gives us protection.

You are my home.
You said that I'm enough.
You comforted me in my ups and downs.
You showed up when no one did.
You eased my pain with your words:
"You're worth it. You're more than you think you are."

As I walked through the long and
winding road, there’s nothing but
the never-ending path.
No signs to see, no roadblocks.
The shadow of yesteryears is my companion,
that rambled on along my spirit.

I endured. I lived a thousand lives.
Yet it lingered like a plague.
I must conquer the unconquerable.
That I must strike thee.
This will not do, for I am not the
beholder of false reflection,
but the caged bird, eager to unbreak
the unbreakable.

In my hour of need, I have endured
and witnessed the consuming wickedness
upon man and its dominion.
So much so, that miracles are nothing but nought.
That the crowd became mindless maggots.
Let them sing like crows squawking.
For they can’t hear the violins playing,
the symphony a black delirium;
their hymn, from a hive-mind.

Here I am in the heart of nowhere.
I paused as I saw the two bending roads.
The blinding light spawned.
Should I follow the light?
I must persist. I must not look back.

You cannot crawl into someone’s skin,
Because it’s different to what he’d seen;
All the deluge he’d ever been, all is unforeseen…

Look at the poor fool.
Why the long face?
Is it because things
Don’t come in your own way?
The world is a comedy to those
Who think, and a tragedy to those who feel;
So which one are you,
My friend?
The Jester or the Fool?
Venture on thy own,
Or remain on the same ground.

I simply exist because I’m told so;
I don’t recall the exact time that I exist,
but simply, I’m here to speculate, nothing more;
I’m here because I’m the speculation.
Half of this canvas that hung within,
is painted through their eyes and mine;
but mine is filled with color and blue, within the corners…

With no place to call my own, I wander and reached nowhere,
Where nothingness spawned beyond my reach.
I cannot claim this as my home, for it is not where Sages go
and I have to find the way to Enigma; there, lost souls belong in the Paradox.
I’m the ghost of godforsaken, not of an Enigma, but a spectacle, never a miracle.

I see children giggled like
how little birds chirp.
How I wish roses would burst
from the barrels of guns aimed
at every minute.
I saw the news today, the Reverence
talked of peace between the militia
and the peacemakers of the territories.

We treat a person as if he was
a Stranger in a Stranger’s Land.
I stare at them and reflect that
they are the blood of my blood.
Whom our forefathers shared
a meal with and shed blood.
The gods would abide if we talk
peace when we have the chance to harm
our brothers and sisters.

May this be our good will.
I remember the words.
I saw the killings of innocent sheep
in the time of crisis and changes.
The soul yearns for the outer voice.
Remember me, I say, when time changes…

The lone man ventures the path to the unknown,
and to the unknown he went alone…
From there, he trekked the shadowed Valley of Death,
where bleakness was raw within, and
it swarms lost souls of their own mischiefs and miseries…

There, nothingness spawned.
Time does not exist, but nothing is absolute.
Plains and jagged paths, all but nothing to last.
He stood there in the crossroad,
where the absolute was over the horizon of
impossibilities and possibilities…
No Sages to come and see, no Forseer to oversee.
Nothing.
Without heed nor light, he strode towards the dead of the night.
The Lone Man walks along the crooked road…