Staying Close

sometimes I wonder
what is home?
is it the dark earth
that holds my roots,
and helped me once
to push my way out
for that lingering gaze
upon a blazing sun,
or the restful darkness
of a quiet, starry night?
what is home?
is it to wallow and curl up
in the blissful womb?
or is it to break open
the hardened shell
to birth myself?
or is it to grow tirelessly
out of my skin
over and over again?
what is home?
is it to know
that I can unearth myself
only when I am far away
or even when I am close?
or is it to know
that no matter where I go,
what I do,
or who I become,
I am always close,
I am always walking home,
I am always home.