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Hiraeth // (n.) A homesickness for a home to which you cannot return, a home which maybe never was; the nostalgia, the yearning, the grief for the lost places of your past. Published: 08/20/2023
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In the depths of my heart, a longing it craves, for a home I can't reach, where my spirit misbehaves, a place that never truly existed in form, yet the memories within make my soul mourn.
Oh, the homesickness burns, in each passing day, a yearning, a longing, it refuses to sway, for a home that was never, but forever will be, a treasure lost, a phantom only I can see.
The streets and the houses, so vividly etched, in the corridors of my mind, forever stretched, Gardens of laughter, where I used to roam, now turned to whispers, in this world I call home.
The scent of sweet jasmine, carrying on the breeze, echoes of laughter, among the swaying trees, a symphony of joy, woven into each sight, now a distant lullaby, fading into the night.
Oh, the grief overwhelms, as I long to return, to a home that perhaps was never destined to burn, the moments, the faces, forever in my heart, an ache for the familiar, ripped so far apart.
But perhaps it's in longing, we find solace anew, embracing the sorrow, honoring what once grew, for in this bittersweet dance of memories lost, a reminder of love, how it came at a cost.
The yearning, the ache, they are etched in my bones, the lost places of past, where my soul had once flown, yet amongst the sorrow, a flicker of hope, that one day, this homesickness may elope.
Until that day dawns, I'll carry this bond, For a home that was never, but still I respond, with gratitude for the echoes that still remain, and the love that lingers, despite the heart's pain.
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