I long to be home,
even when I am home,
like I am somewhere else,
veiled from my true place
where the days are peaceful
and the nights are still.
I long for her love,
even while she loves me.
She fades in the light
as my mind wanders to my
first longings for her,
when I was just as lonely.
I long for friendship,
even when I’m with my friends,
when it seems the happiness
cannot last another day
and I sit alone again
back where I emerged.
I long for purpose,
even while I’m purposeful,
when it seems my life
atrophies on worthless
activities, whose meaning
will be forever lost.