My Homeland

I can't help but feel something missing from my life the older I get. I can't stand hearing the news in any way - anymore. It's because I'm approaching the age where I know and trust fate to take me away to my new country. A country that isn't that new to

You were born one place; but sometimes, your spirit comes from another. My spirit comes from the emerald isles. It dances through the hushed green valleys, and sings throughout the seas. It whispers in my ear about the places it's seen, the things it's done. My heart aches to do the same.

I want to fly to that beautiful place where I will remain peaceful for all time to come. I want to dance through the streets of Dublin, and feel the sand of Sligo between my toes. I want to swim down Shannon. I want to remove these shoes of binding, and never go back. I will live a peaceful life, writing by a window in a room lit by candle-light. As time goes by, that candle will never go out. My heart will soar as it should.

In Ireland.

 

 

 

(One of the commenters of my "Leaving America" opened my eyes to something I never thought of. Spiritual Homelands.)