I Want To Go Home

I want to go home.

The stars know my name and they call me.

Why am I still here?

Because I can’t go home.

If I could bid my body rise

        into the ink-black dotted skies,

        then float upon the cosmic wind

       that bears my heart unbound, un-skinned.

I stand on a hillside far away from the city, so I can stare into the so-called void.

It’s not a void but an ocean, full of scattered creation.

It’s cold and silent, warm and inviting, dark and illuminated.

The cosmos pulls me home.

                Every night it calls to me,

           this cosmic pool of ebony.

           it beckons, “Hey, when next you roam –

           please heed my call and come back home.”

Sometimes I feel so strange and out-of-place here.

Family and friends all look like me, but deep inside I feel so alien.

At times like these I sit on my couch, work at my job, or lie in my bed –

And just wish that I could go home.