The Hearth.

There’s a place in my mind,

Not far away from grasp

That I keep chasing

Yet my hands remain barren.

I run with my heart

Pulsing in my knees,

But I fall to the ground each time.

Maybe I should stop running,

Sink into the earth,

Drink the sun that 

bronzes my cracked skin

Sleep with the wind that dries

My salty cheeks,

Close my eyes and 

Thank the daylight as it falls.

Only then will I realize that

Home is where the heart lies.

That home is where the hearth burns.