All roads lead here, the Conduit says.
You cannot count the infinite paths.
To fathom every touch is madness.
But, brick by brick, time after time..
This place has written its own history.
How can it be so, in such a small plot,
To spin the tales of so many?
To be the grand hall of tears and joy,
misery and folly, hope and fear?
Who would we be without it?
How are we so bound to a singularity?
We must marvel at the commonness of it all.
We must marvel and be thankful.
We must marvel but not dwell.
All places, in all worlds are the shapers of creation.
it is special,
You're not in my class
neither are you
it's the right time
but something's off
just roll with it
act like you belong
no one will notice
leave before it's too late
Where am I supposed to be
I feel at home
Not because I'm at house.
Home is not a location.
Not even close.
Home is what I feel when I'm with you.
I'm wrapped in your protective arms.
Who knows where the heart of a man resides?
In the mountains?
In the sea?
In an empty chest like cavity?
Be it hers or mine?
Because who knows where the heart of a man resides?
Located in the prime location
Precisely at the right spot.
Squaring up the square
Laid to measure on the map.
Equal each side a cube stands
Aligned to the column
brimful every inch.
What now? ‘Looking for a margin,
Wide margin in the solid core.’
Like a human wants to turn up here
From every corner every nook.
The star splashes into its constellation
Like the sun and the moon
Love to wrap around here
Through the fastest route!
What now? ‘Everyone wants a margin
Wide margin where it matters all
It couldn’t be more brimful.