There is home.

The place from which you were wrenched,

that for which you have spent every moment searching.

Sometimes you are so close,

you can smell the heather

and the pine.

No amount of striving will take you there.

You must settle in yourself,

let go

and dare the drop.

Too much thinking

will obscure the path.

You can only find your way home

by trusting your heart.


Day Thirty

Prompt: Write a poem in the form of a series of directions describing how a person should get to a particular place.