A Place Called Home

They say that when the body sleeps,
The spirit needs to roam,
It rises up to leave this plane,
To find a place called home.

It meets up with the friends it knew,
It stays a while and then,
A time of joy and solace,
To find, it’s peace again.

It travels far beyond the veil,
So much it seems to see,
Great beauty in the landscapes,
The rivers, and the trees.

No darkness comes to dim the light,
No distance is too great,
For just a thought of longing,
Will bring you to their gate.

And then you’ll be before them,
They greet you with a smile,
In silent conversation,
You stay and talk a while.

Then somewhere in the distance,
The chorus of the dawn,
Reminds you of your duty,
To return where you belong.

You travel back from whence you came,
Pulled by the silver cord,
And there, beside your sleeping form,
You quietly slip it on.

The memory of your journey,
Forgotten for a while,
It’s locked away for safety,
You waken with a smile.

For once again you’re ready,
To face the day alone,
We scrutinise the map of life,
To find a place called home.

by Linda Harnett

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