In The House Where I Live... Poem by RIC BASTASA

at first it is just a house,
the house where i live,
walls and doors and windows
and roof, and balcony
and kitchen and a living room
a bed, a sofa, etcetera....

then you graduate from this,
there is another house higher
than that, and it could just be
your body, housing a soul,
but there is more to this as you
age, as you mellow, as you turn
like a leaf in autumn, there is
the house promised by God to
you and then all the houses find
less meaning, fading, and not
that intriguing.

i am then here a passer-by,
a pilgrim, a visitor, on a temporary
sojourn, and the earlier i admit
this, the happier i really become.