searching for my home

i thought i had found home; i thought my restlessness would cease; maybe it’s all in my head, but i must i be alone? wisdom says yes, but love says no; where is love? maybe home isn’t a place, but a journey, at least for me; maybe it’s more apt to call it something verbish, like homing; maybe maureen was right, home is where the heart is; i’ll always have my heart, til the day i die

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