I have always searched for roots.
Being adrift in space
Is never what I wanted.
I wanted a quaint place
I could call home; my solace
Where I could be just me,
With hot chocolate and books
And love for company.
I have sought for strong anchors
To stop my wayward drift;
Something heavy that no storm
Could possibly lift.
I found them in what I read,
In what I loved and knew,
In what I wrote and learned,
In what I danced and drew.
I became an anchor then;
Roots was what I became;
I dug into the sea bed,
Made a tree of my name.
If you choose to see this,
As being stuck for all time,
I must set you to sea,
Your fruit was never mine.
Perhaps out in the ocean,
Drifting in colder air,
I dare say, you’ll find your peace,
Devoid of me and care.
Perhaps out in the free air,
Like pollen with no aim,
You will just be –
No flower must you tame.
I stay here anchored fast,
Rooted to my haloed ground,
I shall read and drink and love,
No complaint shall resound,
From cold ocean and warm earth,
I look upward to sky:
I am here. Here I live,
Here I love. Here I die.
Hearts Still Care 