Home is What We Become

They say home is where the heart is, But what is a heart without its cracks? A river without its bends? A fire without its ashes?

I wandered far, chasing something whole, Only to find that wholeness was always here, Waiting for me in the spaces I feared to touch. As I welcomed the pieces The growth, the lessons, the quiet transformations You arrived, unafraid to stand beside me, Not to fix or mend, but to witness the beauty in it all.

And so, when the dust settled, When the noise gave way to stillness, There you were, steady and infinite, Not asking for anything, just being. In your presence, I remembered: Home isn’t somewhere we go. It’s something we awaken to.

And maybe we are still lost, Maybe we’ll never walk the path carved by stars, But here, in the sacred stillness between breaths, I find I don’t need a map Just the warmth of your hand in mine, And the courage to step into the unknown, Knowing the road will rise to meet us.

For every step we take together, The road feels less like a mystery, And more like a gift.

So here we are, Not perfect, not finished, But more than enough. Enough to call this moment holy. Enough to see the divine in every shadow, And the light that pours through the cracks.

This is where we become. This is where eternity lives. Not in the destination, But in the infinite unfolding of us, One step, one breath, one heartbeat at a time.