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Friday, November 29, 2013

Home at last

I am the place that hungers, that aches and is empty. The story of why, and the fable of what.

I am the very quality of fullness. Where one seeks, there am I. A memory cannot exclude me. There, on the horizon!

Look behind, and know me again... then know me all along.

Those who love me, who love only me, find in my heart their own gently beating. To seek shelter there is the end of every journey, the end of journeying itself.

Be enfolded, little heart. Feel this pulse, this humming throb.

Know yourself. Be home at last.

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