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People are not Homes... Someone should've told us that.

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Home

I live in a house.

I live In a house where all my belongings and possessions have a place.

I live In a house with a bed on which my favorite blanket and pillows lay.

I live in a house that is heated and the water Is at the perfect boiling temperature for my showers.

I live in a house, but it's not my home.

I live in a house filled with family and memories.

I live in a house where I know if I insert my key and turn I will be let in.

I live in a house where there is always someone to greet me.

I live in a house, but it is not my home.

I've searched for a home in the friends I've made.

I've dwelled in the thoughts and mind of those friends, and on occasion in their hearts.

I live in their memories, but those memories are not my home.

I've searched for my home in school.

I go, I study, I graduate, and repeat.

But my home is not in my perfect grades, or in the halls of these institutions.

I've went to school, I've received diplomas, award, and scholarships.

I still have not found a home in my accomplishments.

I've searched for a home in my relationships.

Time and time again I've set up camp in the hearts of men, who have shown me that my residence in their lives was only temporary.

I've left pieces of my heart in those places, but those pieces were not my home.

I've travelled to different towns, states, and countries.

I've met amazing people and I often think of those experiences with great gratitude.

I am truly, truly grateful, but gratitude does not a home make.

I've sung in different temples, I've prayed, cried and preached on different altars.

I've worshipped and praised, and I've been broken and put back together withIn those four walls.

But the temple was not my home.

My home is not a friend or family.

My home was not hidden in misguided romances.

My home is not in a church.

My home is not the street I live in.

My home is not my local bodega.

My home is not here in New York, or the United States.

My home is not in the hearts of others, or fond memories of the past.

For I am not of this world; this is simply a stop along the way.

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This article has not been reviewed by Odyssey HQ and solely reflects the ideas and opinions of the creator.
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