Beautiful Homeland

Home,

Elusively close,

Glimmers and ripples can be caught,

Beauty.

Home is beautiful,

The winds are crisp and clean,

The water sweet and fresh.

Dripping and oozing with life,

My senses are heightened,

Pain is a distant memory,

My tongue can taste as never before,

Melodious music reverberates within my ears,

Thousands upon thousands are singing,

Joy never before known.

My mind is clear,

The truth of who I am,

To know and be known.

No more lies,

Death a distant memory,

What is pain?

Time is no more.

My eyes take in the light,

If only there were words to describe how bright,

How pure, how rich, how powerful.

What is night?

Fields of green,

Luscious, thick grass without thorn or thistle.

Colour bursting forth in the meadow,

Trees bending beneath the weight of their fruit.

The old is new,

The broken; repaired.

Walking through the streets,

The King of this land.

If I could pen his figure,

His character and demeanor,

Such an exquisitely wonderful display of words would that be.

Yet, how can you pen perfection,

I must simply wait in hopeful anticipation,

Of realizing that permanent vacation,

When I shall finally see with my own eyes,

Touch and embrace with my own hands,

And kiss with my own lips,

Perhaps then I shall be able to scribe,

Love.