#findinghome
“The Boy Who Wrote His Way Home”
Ink-stained fingers, a poet’s resolve,
Crafting dreams in lines he evolves.
“Life favours the courageous,” he writes in the night,
Setting small fires in hearts with his light.
A boy of ink, with dreams set in rhyme,
Reaching for stories beyond place and time.
From poet to soldier, his road comes undone,
With courage to guide him through all that would come.
Through battles hard fought and hard-won days,
Still drawn to the pull of the open ways.
Now seeking a love that answers him true,
Led on by the old words, and the new.
Home, he finds in a lover’s embrace,
Not a place on a map, but a feeling, a space.
The boy with the pen now a man who has known,
That the road changed him more than he’d known.
With pen in his hand, he still shapes his fate,
In the quiet between what is early and late.
For in daring to dream, and daring to roam,
The boy became man—and he made his way home.
Apr 14
Apr 14, 2026 at 8:51 AM UTC
I do not want the key back
to the room I locked.
The dust can settle there in patterns
I no longer trace.
Let the garden I did not plant
grow wild without my watching,
let the path I swept
accept the scatter of new leaves.
My ship is not tied to that dock,
its shape is gone from the horizon's line.
The tide I catch now fills a different sail,
pulls me toward a deeper, wider blue.
I have pressed my palms into this new earth,
felt its warmth, its willing yield.
Where I am now has asked for roots,
and I have given them.
The view from here is enough.
The sun arrives at a kinder angle.
I do not miss the old shadows,
or the furniture of my former weather.
I am fine where I am.
The compass in my chest has stilled,
its needle pointing down,
simply saying: here.
Feb 2
Feb 2, 2026 at 5:09 AM UTC
Standing in the middle of the terminal
Confused on where to go
I have an empty bag but my heart is full of emotions.
I've been everywhere,
Searching here and there
Looking for something that I don't even know
It's not when, but where will I stop and grow?
I hope one day I end this confusion
And find a place I can call my Home.
Jan 13, 2018
Jan 13, 2018 at 4:49 PM UTC
The pilot closed the door.
Taking a brief moment to look around.
Patting himself down opening the door then closing it back hesitantly.
He walked past the vacant seats, inviting himself to the copilot seat in the cockpit.
He leaned his head back, observing the silence that surrounded.
Staring off into the clouds.
His back seeped into comfort. Sliding down a bit further.
His knees touching the dashboard to the controls.
He searched the sky. The chair becoming a more enticing place to catch a Z or two.
The plane landed about half an hour ago.
Still he sat. Constantly opening then closing the door.
Feeling the breeze of air pass across his face.
Stretching his legs from being cramped in a tight compartment for so long.
Watching the other planes come and go.
The constant flicker of port side reflecting off his face.
How easy it seems to go home.
Continuing to nod off into a deep sleep.
Listening to the other planes sail off into the distance.
The luxury of dreams
Mar 13, 2017
Mar 13, 2017 at 2:38 PM UTC