It’s a long way home,
when your home is a dream,
and there are no shapes to the future.
The rain falls around you,
the sun passes behind the distant moon,
the clouds shift their shape into ghosts.
All that is left are soulless memories.
Pointless history of things gone bad.
Before you is the prologue to the future.
Let your soul stand cool and composed before a million universes
– Walt Whitman