Do you ever feel like…home is not home to all of you? That yes, home is soothing and comforting—safe, but even between the toasty layers of your pajamas and blankets, there still hides the smallest ball of light, vibrant and tireless, restless to just go. Scratching at all your carefully arranged layers of warmth, emerging like a heartbeat that you try to quiet down after each thump.
It is a secret you hide from yourself, willing yourself into ignorance, into safety. Not wanting to partake in the destruction of comfort so painstakingly obtained.
It’s strange to feel that so constantly.
To have your quietude stampeded upon from the inside. Defied by a wild heart bathed in kaleidoscopic visions of ethereal worlds. I want quiet and solitude, reflection, meditation, but my heart is still so young. Unused to the ways of life, eager to find out more, more, more, as much as the world can give and more, more, more.
So it stirs me up from peaceful sleep, taints my peach-painted dreams in colours of sky and ocean. It whispers of adventures and worlds to be visited, explored, created. And like an overexcited child on a sugar high, it will not go to sleep. Never, absolutely not.
So when it can no longer ignore its pull, my weary, wrinkled soul will take that young heart out to see the world. And there is something about that youth, that excitement, that makes my soul bloom anew. If only just a little.
The newness of discovery reminds me again of how beautiful the world can be. If only you look at it with the right eyes.