The Art Of Finding Home

Home is not simply a place to be, there’s an art to home and it's finding it you see; somehow it's like happiness and we’re all in the pursuit, for something lost to be found, and to be found in truth..

Is home but four walls and a roof over our heads? Is home in the softness and comfort of our beds? Home maybe so, is in the Arms of a lover; who never judges the pain that you tried to keep covered.

Home and its four letters, such a powerful word; is much more than the societal norms that you’ve heard. Home is in the emptiness that you filled with Faith, it's in the light that lit your darkness you never thought you’d escape. Home is in the stillness of a Family at evening prayer, when Amen has left its peacefulness hanging in the air.

Home is in the silent glances exchanged, between a couple whose love never faded away. It's in the Arms of our Mothers, rocking sweet cries to sleep. It's in the cold breath of dawn on a Mountain top peak, when you've come to the understanding that your own heart sets you free.

Home is a journey that we travel with wide eyes, ears that want to listen, and tears we must dry. It's the bittersweet revival, the cleansing of our souls, the past that's released and the comfort of being whole.

Home is within us, and has been all along,

It is simply our choice to where with it we belong.