Hiraeth (n.) a homesickness for a home to which you cannot return, a home which maybe never was; the nostalgia, the yearning, the grief for the lost places of your past
My life's been leading
up to this moment.
Up on the railing,
the cool metal kissing
Last of the sun rays,
warmth washing over my face.
The breeze playing with my hair
it hums, it sings of longings deep buried.
And I can almost hear you singing for me.
I am happy, even as the light recedes to darkness
for the stars are already twinkling, I long to become them.
Tonight; it is lovely,
your memories hug me,
they kiss me.
And I feel at Home, a Home I have never known.
Beneath me is a world:
of metal, and men,
of dirty hands, and
that overflow with their brothers' bloods.
Rivers that carry your blood.
Above me is Home; a Home I do not yet know,
a home from where you call for me,
The heaven where I long to be.
Letting go isn't hard.
Falling doesn't hurt.
The further down I drop,
the closer I get to you
and the closer I get to home.