The touch
that brings us home
from dark places,
and endless wandering.
The whisper
of our name
on the wind,
that calls us back
from the edge,
from the depths,
from somewhere
way out there.
We might be the ones,
whispering,
reaching out
to bring them in.
The lost,
and the wounded,
floating out there,
like space junk,
or sunken treasure.
If you go too far,
or get lost,
I’ll reach out
and call you back.
I’ll call you back.
I’m calling you.
I’m calling.
HG – 2022
