So, where is home?
Home is where the dust cries
In a foreign land
Where we shall come to know the bitterness of exile.
And yet, where is this home?
It is inside the mustard seed
Where only the dying can see โ
If we are to poeticize these inkwells
With an altruistic art,
We must become the pen
Upon this page of forceful doubts.
Only then shall we come to light this
Legendary candle
Of hope.