No one's been in the house for ages,
yet the lights have been left on.
Moderate sane hearts wane
from age or from goodbyes.
It's the little lamps in our lives
that we were unable to find
to say goodbye to
that remain alit, waiting
with their dim translucence trickling about the room
like tears slowly falling down hollowed cheeks.
If we ever return home
how surprised we should be
to find those old lights still burning.
How welcome to discover
even some small bit of light
piercing through the darkness.
Quiet illumination
sings sacred volumes to the old soul.
So we open the door
back home
and look inside;
yes, indeed... the lights are still on.
Lovely touching poem, there is no place home indeed. Siya_! !
Very moving and oh so touching~ I often dream of the days of back when..... What will forever be 'home' and remain there and then......Love this poem!
A great poem, home is always home, no matter where we end up. We will always return home.
Great depth, with poetic imagery.I see and feal what you are saying I would not wish to turn off those lights
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
I would like to translate this poem
past that remains lighting in the heart and mind....or something else