My Way Back Home

I feel it.

I feel the longing from the depths of my being.

I feel it crashing like a wave that hasn’t yet identified itself as separate from the ocean.

Always returning to wholeness after breaking.

When thoughts do nothing but confuse me, it’s in the essence of meaningless words woven together that I find the poetry of becoming.

In every inhale I remember.

In every exhale I surrender.

It isn’t me who is living or dying, but the idea of me that sees itself like a separate entity in this room of mirrors, when reflection is only possible because of light… and darkness.

Life’s purpose is to play this game of revealing and concealing through us, through me.

She weaves the threads of confusion so that I may find clarity in Her arms.

Held by the Great Unknown like a child in her Mother’s heart.

My heart and the Heart of the World beating at the same rhythm.

My true longing is to always get lost so that I may find my way back Home.