Poetry: Two Homes

I wrapped my arms
for the last time
around the light
around the bright
around all of us…
and dropped through
to find my waiting  human self
for the last time

So much like you did before me
and like you will
as I am preparing to leave this Earth
for the last time
again….aged and tired…perhaps.

There are two homes
but only one
true Home.
We all know it.
We all suffer for the way
we can’t live there
and the way we seem
to have dislocated
the address.

How can you find something
that is all around you
all the time
if you keep looking for it…?

It’s like TRYING
to breathe air.
Apparently some of us have come here to gasp.
To reach and to grasp,
because this is the forgetting place,
spirits living inside of the human race
forgetting that there isn’t a way to win…
only ways
to love or hate.

Each incarnation is a season.
Each long life lived as a human being
is but a day
in the year of the soul.
Everytime we come here in these lives
is just the other side of
everytime we return to Home for different lives.

It’s just that one is a life where finite
is a necessary illusion
and the other life
sees that finite is the illusion.

At the end of this finite thing
this life a la human…
I hope to wrap my arms around
air that can be breathed.
I will want to see every color
and feel my body sliding underneath
and away
as I rise
from this place where I tried to remember
what it was like
to not be here…
as I reemerge into the Home
I never once completely forgot.

It’s the middle way for all of us
Between two homes,
two worlds.
Two selves.
Always two truths
which is why all truth
is paradoxical.


About skymeetingtheground

Healer, poet, author, yogi, single father...outdoorsy guy.
This entry was posted in kundalini support, Meditations, Poetry, Sacred Intimacy, sacred poetry, satsang, silent darshan, spiritual activism, spiritual poems, yoga and tagged , , , , , , . Bookmark the permalink.

1 Response to Poetry: Two Homes

  1. it’s like looking up from the the daily list of activities – horseshoes or hand grenades, poverty or affluence, police brutality or hermitage, where ‘water sports’ includes boat trips — across the Mediterranean packed in leaky boats with hundreds of disparate others, etc. and wondering with every fibre what the vacation brochure said to make this place at all appealing?! And still here we are. Thank you for your insights and for the love that you are.


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