It was somewhere up in the high valley when the hymn blends into one fine morning. I woke up earlier than usual knowing that something great was coming up real soon.
"Sleep don't visit, so I choke on sun, and the days blur into one. And the backs of my eyes hum with things I've never done. Sheets are swaying from an clothesline. Like a row of captured ghost over old dead grass. Was never much, but we've made the most. Welcome home."
There goes a song by Radical Face to complete the ritual of facing the east. Pulling off myself from the routine and enjoying limited time under the shade of pine trees. It's true that nature has its own way to heal. That sunrise melts the cold heart and enables it to feel.
"Ships are launching from my chest, some have names but most do not. If you find one, please let me know what piece I've lost."
For whatever it was in the past, welcome home.