Sorrow, joy, dreams a few the passing wave and the mountain view, the rippled sand and thought that cries, the brazen brand of self’s own lies, called to home, called to now.
The grasp of hand, the bend of bow, that fought for life and lived to show, called to home, called to now.
Yes and no; leap and fall; the stars themselves and the land calls called to home, called to now.
The tear that winds through time and space, the smile of one who seeks their place, this flow of time and flick of life, this end of rhyme and end of strife, called to home, called to now.