Moving.

The prospect of leaving home never sounded so youthful and unseasoned to you. In the distance, images and possibilities set off a race in your mind. Expected adrenaline, exhilaration and the thought of risk taking, run like it’s their final lap through your head. Because you’ve been at this same place for so long. Lately you’ve needed that something to remind you that you’re still self-reliant. You seek clarity. Liberation. Explanation. And suddenly everything seems about to fall into place. Leave.

In the morning. When you wake up. There is change. But only lack of color. Silent sound. You look around you and remember. This was your clarity. Your defining moment. Why the instability? Because you’re falling through spectrums without a life bar. It’s empty even before you touch the ground. Is this fact or fiction? Can you go back? You’re tired in your eyes and sin is written across your blood. Guilt might be the eighth.

Despite their queries, you remain silent, unthinking, not aloud. You can’t dismiss the color of the sky your last night at home from your mind. So different to the color of the sky now. Did you not throw out all conviction. Traded it for substance? With so much certainty. Was it really time to go? Suddenly you miss the warmth back at home. The careful, reassuring ambience. The question is. Do you go back? Sometimes you can’t.

You were my home. I love you too. Please let go..