A home, though... |
It's gone then it's back again. It's either we don't see it or we see it too much that we come blind to what it can be. Opportunities is just a longer word for potential, and it's a potential that the shelter is there. It disappears from the rust encrusting it, the bread which appears to now be unappealing. We walk the shelter sitting by it as we dare, we never think of its value until we must go there. Fill our sights with the glee that used to be there, find what is missing, for what can be there. It's a charming little dragon that stays in place, burning the walls around it, but the others don't care. What treasures inside, no one knows Take it for granted it's not something we find and call fine. Some might know it's much more than that, call it whatever, but it's a home for sure. Does it disappear? Perhaps it does. We find it here one day, gone the next, but appearing the way each of us see it. That's when we think we see it but we don't. We see, but not it. It appears with the flick of a switch and blends in with the air, it seems with a blink of an eye. We keep telling ourselves this, it never moves. But what is it? |