As I sit here and ponder. 

As I wait in wonder. 

About a man that’s traveled. 

So far from home im baffled. 
He’s so far from the ones he loves 

But yet so close to home.

He has many who surround him. 

Many who believe in him. 
But this is not his home. 

His home is something much greater. 

His definition is not painted in words. 

What is home?
Is it a four walled sculpture?

Or is it a picture? 

Is it a smell? 

Or is it a color? 
Is it a place on a map 

Or a place we turn our backs? 

Is it a sanctuary 

Or is it a cemetery? 

Spelled with an 

H. O. M. And an E. 

Home is something you can loose. 

Home is something you can find. 

Home is something we all have. 

Home is something we can all take for granted. 

While it’s a geographical location

It’s also moving at all times. 

While it’s a four or more side structure 

It also has no boundaries. 

While it can hold a million people 

It also can hold one or none. 
While it’s a sound complex that’s always there

It can be also no heard no where. 

While it’s a place to be filled up with love 

You can also be torn down in hatred

While it’s a place of comfort and safety 

It is also a place of danger. 

We define it as a place or a building where we resign. 

Usually obtaining things we love. 

Humans, things, nouns. 

While we define the home it has its own definition that you and I should know.

Spelled with a 

H. O. M. And an E. 

Is love. 

It’s anger. 

Is joy. 

It’s disfunction. 

It’s peace and quiet. 

Its a loud raging voice.

It’s a person.

It’s a lonely person. 

It’s a dog or cat.

Or it’s a snake in the garden. 

It’s a safe haven 

Or it’s a place that some get raped. 

Or murdered 

Or jumped 

Or persecuted

Or stabbed 

Or not heard 

Or hated 

Or misunderstood. 

It’s kindness 

It’s hate. 

It’s one thing and it’s another. 


For some it’s great. 

For some it’s not. 

For that man it was everything. 

For me it’s the same. 


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