Home of homelessness

Laughter drifts in from outside.
Inside, our silence abides.
Tomorrow, unseen, we rise.
At every threshold, we arrive.

All doors open. All roads align.
We do not follow paths; they adjust to our steps.
We try each door, then leave each door.
We enter to see, never to stay anymore.

No door is home, no road can bind.
We carry no home, yet home we find.
Homelessness holds us.
Nomadism shelters us.

― Atrona Grizel