Whenever I think of home, I shed tears.
Whenever I reach for warmth,
I find only my empty hands.
I remember the lap that held me;
I mourn the embrace that made me.
My gaze fastens to the horizon,
then loosens into the void between nebulae.
The universe is woven from my tears.
Every black hole is the unfillable hole within my heart.
The abyss inside me,
sends me wandering
from world to world,
from star to star.
I search for my home.
I ask where it is.
I find it nowhere.
I outrun the speed of light,
yet it has long outrun me.
I cross clusters and galaxies,
yet it remains beyond all measure,
beyond every dimension in front of me.
Unbound, I drift.
My ship is no harbor,
only a vessel for departure.
Only a thread-thin tether remains.
Through it,
I feel the presence of absence,
the nearness of distance,
the memory of time.
Year after year,
sphere after sphere,
It makes me understand:
the road is my homeland,
the void my horizon,
the stars my comrades.
I am a cosmic nomad, and the cosmos is my home.
I am a wanderer of the void, and homelessness is my essence.
And what remains,
vast and nameless,
is the lesson of the motherland.
― Atrona Grizel