sometimes i just can't help it: the world-weariness falls over me and i can't hold up beneath its weight. in these times, i so desperately want to call out for release from the longings that cannot be satisfied in this place. from the pain and the pang that happens when i see the beauty of life juxtaposed with its bitterness. from the tears that never seem to dry, no matter how furiously i wipe them away. from the all-too-familiar feeling of the cold hand of time on my shoulder reminding me of all the things undone and yet to accomplish. from the persistent awareness that i fail on far too many levels.

i want a home. a real home: a place that is warm and safe from the driving rain of my uncertainty. i'm not sure whether it comes from being a "foreigner in a foreign land" or whether it's something else altogether – more human than sacred in origin.

either way, the answer is elusive.

but i'm holding on to the fact that there will come a day when i will meet the solution to all of these pains and failings and questions.