Home is..
Emerging from the dark caves of space,
Enduring the galactic rides, without a trace,
Catching a glimpse of Earth,
As the ship gets ready for that final burn.
When the calm shores, appear to a ship,
Laden with hopes, wounded mortals, but not souls,
Returning, tired, looking for that balm,
The wind blows a whiff of home that is the coast.
The city lights, that sign of life,
The hustle, bustle, instead of the turbulent strife,
That the forest offered, to the material brain,
Brave at first, eventually scared, seeking roof, not rain.
The border, beyond which dreams are built,
A promise of a home for the skilled,
For souls traveling, sometimes away from home,
Searching for providence, ironic for some.
The dorm, without a cot, just a comforter,
Ready to embrace you, in a Jaipur winter (or a Stony Brook Summer),
When you rush to it, just before dawn,
To find warmth, sleep, before the noisy morn.
Where your heart is,
Or where you think you left it,
Sometimes many, but usually one,
Where hearts beat, eyes wait, for your return.
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