There are many ways to home,
some I've taken,some not known,
there are things I've left behind,
pieces of what was once mine.

In places, things and people;
carriers of my past,
there are questions I answered,
some answers took me far.

I had voices tell me things,
some nice and some withering,
in the silence they often got lost,
mine eventually losing its plot.

Funnily while the world is round,
life doesn't usually come around,
in its tumble and toil it's all well made
the mechanism for blinkers to fade

I have now the learned my mistake,
which I made, oh so often,
in my quest for the chosen one,
I left many locks unopened.

Sullen shoes and withered hats,
find revelations in dark corners
like a fairy tale, is also,
only the brave get the honors.