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.