By Mason Teixeira
We are homesick and we are already home.
Soul searching is unnecessary when you let yourself realize you still have one.
Sentiments processed easily,
With seasonal reminders:
With core in the bedrock,
Blossoms will return.
Calamity can exist with a comeback.
Allow death to happen in hard times and catastrophe,
Gambling with the inevitable prolongs suffering.
Wrapped up tight,
Letting go is comfortable with this knowledge:
I found ease and safety,
In those arms,
In the house of the wolves.