We've taken the fire from the gods
and held it tight with all our might
not letting go of any power
until our dying breath
adding more and more to the flames
so that the heavens themselves
dim and in turn so do we
focusing only on the external fire,
forgetting the one within
until it's almost fully out.
In some cases, never remembering
the internal dwelling of our soul
that lights our way.
Why would we when there are
always the streetlamp and car lights
and flashlights and blinkers and stoplights
constantly directing us home?
Too bad that home is dark and empty,
damp from the cold, long forgotten.
Too late to catch even those
last embers of what once was
though living constantly in the state
of what once was
rather than what is.
Our original sin, our theft
from the gods haunting us
until our very end.
Choice is always ours however.
Turn away from the flame, that screen,
that false blue light and
turn in to the warmth of
your own hearth that awaits you.
Brush away the cobwebs and dust bunnies.
Though forgotten, home never left.
Home was never lost.
Home is never lost.
Home can always be found.