The Space We Call Home

Around the sun we move endlessly,
every second, minute and hour.
We move from twilight till dawn
in search of our homes.

Like nomads we roam daily
in search of our abode.
We scale the savanna and forest,
foraging and migrating endlessly.

Aeons and light gone,
we are not home.
But the sun still shone,
drying the remnants of our bones.

We are the custodian of our home.
We have the key to our inherited castle,
the very frame that kept us,
yet we roam stranded at the gate.

Everything given for our enjoyment
is now our daily torment.
The oceans and the firmament,
our doorway to internment.

We are going home,
to a place we do not come from.
We are going home,
to an illusive kingdom.

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