I have flown nigh and not in search of

A good stick of lumber to feed my hearth’s heart.

I have fluttered from place to place, lost most of all to myself.

I know not where I should find my flame’s bounty,

Only the oceans over which I flew wishing

To perceive it.

And now, sheltered before the foreign fire’s warmth

After but another dusty day,

I am thinking to myself how not a thing has changed

From there to here,

Save for myself.

How I wish I had known,

For the oceans over which I’ve flown,

Were as vast as they were unnecessary.

Now many years have come and gone,

And my strong heartbeat has reached almost quiet,

I realize how pointless the journey was.

I never had to go from my cozy home

In search of a stick of lumber

To feed my hearth’s heart;

It lives inside of me.