I carry a small white stone in my pocket, most of the time...
It reminds me that there is a way home...
Like Hansel and Gretel....
Home seems a long way away....
I wonder if I have ever been there...
I play with my stone and feel its shiny, marbled whiteness...
I hold it in my pocket when I'm anxious...
Sometimes I long for home with a longing that is beyond words...
Almost beyond feelings...
I used to draw a house with a chimney and the lights on and an open door, at the top of an endless cliff... with a swing in the tree outside...
I drew the picture over and over again...
I don't draw it any more....
I don't know where home is, but somehow don't think it it out there somewhere...
Somehow I need to find the home in the silence of my heart and soul...
Maybe I won't be so restless then...
That would be nice..........................
