The Endless Search . . .

They say that infinity cannot be found,

for it is not a place you can go.

Not a number, but a direction to head toward,

not a noun but a dream.

A path to follow.

Forever out of reach,

beyond all sorrow.

Success is like that too.

A moving target, forever out of reach,

forever oh so hollow.

Always higher, further, faster, more.

Always hunting, keeping score.

Perhaps home, like success and infinity,

remains forever outside of our grasp.

Not a person.

Nor a thing.

And certainly not a place, no.

Perhaps home, like infinity,

can better be described as a heading.

Forward.

Home, Success, Infinity all defy description,

defy control,

defy possession.

Yet perhaps they are not meant to be found,

possessed,

or controlled.

Perhaps it is enough simply to seek.

Heading for infinity is as close as one will ever come,

to finding it.

Reaching for success is as close as one may ever come,

to achieving it.

And searching for home is as close as we may come,

to ever having it.

Perhaps Home is not a noun, but a dream.

A heading.

A hunt.

So seek and ye shall find.

Seek home within thine own mind.

Ask yourself where within you feel the most at home,

and head in that direction.

Seek home within friends and family, lovers and beloved.

Cherish moments and memories, and heartbreaks and tragedies.

Ask yourself what home looks like,

and hunt for it without pause.

Push beyond your comfort zone,

and find comfort in the wild beyond your reach.

Home exists where you plant pieces of yourself,

and tenderly help them grow.

Seek home and find it everywhere,

you never dared to roam.