#journeyhome
“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
.
Adrift...
Time has no hold over these
currents that carry me.
Coursing over this seemingly
endless journey.
Caressed and nudged
by an invisible hand...
Perhaps my grave awaits below...
Where light is swallowed
and is too afraid to show.
The desolate demeanor
of the submerged tombless land.
Adrift...
Blind to what lays in store...
Oblivious to...
The faint whispers of a distant shore.
The mythical horizon is but a dream,
worthy only to the steadfast
and the resilient.
Not to those who'd fray at the seams.
Adrift...
Ripples amass and finally cresting.
Wake up... Waves are breaking.
The sand beckons bearing open arms
to home and sanctuary.
I glance back to
the calm of the watery plain.
My feet aren't ready to be received by
the grit and grain.
I'd like to linger here...
In the water, with the shore so near.
For I've longed and travelled far...
but
I'm still not yet ready...
.
Aug 11, 2015
Aug 11, 2015 at 12:11 PM UTC