Are houses found or
Are they alternate spaces
Forever
Living in another universe?
Always fated to be made
Cosy,
Allocated
In pre-existence
Ready to be found
As the Pater
Discovers his Mormon bride.
In looking at their aspect
The bones
Look so familiar.
It is not so hard
To see the core
Hidden
By fortune’s
Decorations.
Of course we must
Liberate them.
For they are ours,
We are theirs.
Not said in jest
It is a hero’s quest
A mountain to climb
To populate the peak
At its fated time.
Seeking is finding,
Wandering has purpose,
Our pilgrimage
Kept short by
Compulsions
To land,
To find.
Let the house
Be on the horizon,
Soon,
For it will be accepting,
Accepting and kind.
