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HimPoems
The home you miss, is my burden; the longing of distance and miles is not there. Concealed within living bone and spiral, no conquered land can I long winter, and longer yet retain. Would you miss it - if it were always near? Those crude constructions composed of flora's corpses and Oran's nails; compose another, and... Still ye dismay: "The house is similar, but the home is not the same." A home requires a heart, but man has long since lost theirs; so crawling, I wonder: "What difference is there?"
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Oct 10, 2021
Oct 10, 2021 at 10:58 AM UTC
The Snail.
The home you miss, is my burden; the longing of distance and miles is not there. Concealed within living bone and spiral, no conquered land can I long winter, and longer yet retain. Would you miss it - if it were always near? Those crude constructions composed of flora's corpses and Oran's nails; compose another, and... Still ye dismay: "The house is similar, but the home is not the same." A home requires a heart, but man has long since lost theirs; so crawling, I wonder: "What difference is there?"
This piece presents a monologue, of a snail innately unable to appreciate Man's concept of "Home". The Snail professes an element of Man lost, a home's cause, thus no difference is to be had.
#home#house#man#longing#animal#distance#difference
Written by
Him
Oct 10, 2021
Oct 10, 2021 at 10:58 AM UTC
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