Every moment, every motion.
Every effort apparent or subtle.
The work of my hands, a purpose.
The work of my mind, a reason.
Every goal, every success, every idea.
Each hard day, another blank stare.
Every held breath, every dream.
Lost for beats of time, elsewhere.
The constant yearning, the constant turning,
the paths of my mind reaching East.
Some day I’ll be home again.
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