Home…

 Could it be we’ve been indoctrinated into believing home is a structure that stores all the things we can buy? Is it possible to thinking the mind to know it itself is the center of the universe from self’s perspective as it is always home? Is it comprehensible to think no matter where self travels off to it’s just another comfort yet to be familiar and become a stage of a sense of home? At least for a lil while. For a moment, long enough to find where comfort feels just right. So the mental sigh isn’t lost. Can it be we live in a false reality as we’re born in a trap? Is this why happiness feels like it’s a drift in the wind? What if flowing with the breeze is home. No matter where for anywhere is a good place to enjoy for a lil bit…