All homes are simply stations on the way,
We come, we go, we move from place to place,
The only steady one's the place we'll stay
Until our bones have disappeared from trace.
What all our lives mean, I have to say, is this
That we will simply always have to move
Unresting, ever seeking for the one
Comforting location where we can love
Those who will love us underneath the sun.
What is a home but the thing that we bear
Within our hearts, that guards what we desire
Away from all disaster and from fear,
And where we keep and watch the sacred fire.
The law that governs all the paths of earth
Is that each day marks for us another birth.
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