Coming Home

How far do we go before

progress only feels like decay,

And words spoken a million years ago

feel like they hurt only yesterday.

The road is rugged and all paths worn

But it is hard to kill the human spirit

It wanders till it finds its way

Only to rest below the ground.

I will go walk this way too

but I’ll try to find myself

on the way down,

Because death is nothing but

a kiss of finality

The grave, nothing but coming home.

~ Saadia