How long has it been?
Did I sleep the storm away?
What time is it?*

A disorienting headache alarms me awake,
The wind at my back nudges me to life.
Hungover,
Culturally removed and it's all over again.

The past can't exist here,
Childhood memories are a fiction.
Friends are forgotten stories scattered,
About my brain like the workspace of a maniac.

Am I that far removed?
Have I grown enough that I don't fill the old space?
Such elation and sorrow combine in misery,
And it's hard to believe that home disappears.

I wish no one missed me like I don't.
The man you see standing in the same door frame,
He passed through at all ages,
He has new eyes that you won't recognize.
For they don't see the world like you do.

One last country,
One last break through the clouds,
One last chance to make myself right?

Does my stack of thoughts grow taller yet,
Through dreams of experiences I never regret?
And did home stand still while I was gone?
Life, I suppose, has to keep moving on.