The impossible dream

When home is elusive, the world feels ominous.

A journey to a place you’ve never been holds the promise of peace, despite never having known what peace feels like.

It’s a cry of the soul, in tones and words that no one seems to understand.

But you keep crying, and you keep trying, because something deep inside convinces you that there must be more than this.

If only it was possible to know why this never felt enough, it would be so much easier to figure out why home is still worth searching for.

The impossible dream that is too important to abandon, but too wholesome to feel worthy of it.

It truly is a long longing, for something we imagine would finally reach the deep, dark recesses of our being, and offer it the light it has been yearning since our first breath.

Will the yearning remain even after our last breath?

Or is hope for fools who dare to dream despite living a recurrent nightmare?

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