[first person narrative]
This is not
The home of Christmas,
My old grey love lap.
You, city of alienation,
Metropolis, second name.
I am your spawn but
Who will be welcoming me
Upon my return,
If not your cold shoulder,
My old love?
Homecoming is no
Obligation to you anymore
Feel my weary step
On your broad back
With whimper
Heartbeat steprhythm
Stumbling towards
Grateful freedom
Peace space
Maturity is what you call it;
Thank you -
Look at what you create:
The dry pit in my chest
Filled now with tearful flood -
Not with your love
But with my own;
Let me define and dedicate.
If only God stays nigh,
I shall be safe
No matter which lap
I'll end up in.
The decision is my heart's alone
Which has outgrown
Childhood's sweet obey.
The decision is my heart's alone
For a heart that lingers
Well afar and yet
Just lives right by me:
Well of happy confidence.
The decision is my heart's alone
To stalk and wander in awe
Of His creation
And withstand the drawback
Into patterns
That suit me no more.
My lifespun geography
My map and path
Lie beyond what stopped to glitter
Years ago.
It is in the purity
Of a smile and heartgaze
Where there is my soulbound home
That resides here alone
In this, my chest.
December′07, BLN / © jänz...!
