What if I tell you that I don’t need to go back?
Since
I have found my home in your presence

What if I tell you?
That It is you,
Where I belong to?

You are
The only place where residing feels like reincarnating
And I could never be a wanderer nor a stranger in you
—hence I surrender my heart to be left in you

*If I tell you so, would you stay?

Spinning silver , silken sweaters with -
my catawba brethren , foresting oakwood estates
beside red fox companions , in witness of white-tail herds ,
compelling frigid streams of yellow perch and shellcracker , lemongrass sun hued byways engulfed in dewdrop prisms reign atop pattern encrusted red clay earth
In memory of morning , of the caterwauling Alabama easterlies ,
of vagabond waterbirds that sail frost laden , bucolic scenery

Just why is this true..?
Consider:
Any possible world would
be made of our Awareness..
A world
makes a seeming ripple
in the sea of Awareness..
It is as a wave
making appearance
made of water
in the sea of Ocean..
Does it matter which
ripple or world we experience..?
It is best in the moment
of its appearance
but soon is replaced by
a sister ripple...

I've become the best musician , poet and song writer I've ever known in this six hundred square foot sheltered world where I live , write and perform* ...

In a murky evening
When the moon hesitated
To shake away her drape
An autumn tree,
Like an orphan
Left alone by relatives
With tattered patches
Half bare and bruised
Cried at my window

Dig a quarter acre pond , keep it filled with clean , aerated water
and small fish will appear on their own before three summers have passed , I kid you not* ....