My heart is a broken compass, the way is unknown,
So I found it very difficult when my soul longed for home.

For some time, I followed the wind but there was never a destination, although it did take me so many places, a never ending vacation.

I eagerly followed the twinkling stars at night, falsely believing I would be guided by their light,
But all they had to offer was confusion.

Wondering if home was merely a delusion, I remembered the birds, always having such a determined route,
So I followed them, even though my mind was filled with doubt,

Always moving, I started to wonder if they had a home,
Yet, in each other's company, they seemed to find contentment.
They were always flying, but there was not one set place to which they went,

So maybe home is not a place, it's somewhere that makes you feel secure, someone who, when you feel out of place, they remind you that in yourself you can be sure. When everything goes wrong, home is the first place you run to,



*And suddenly, my heart somehow found its way to you.