Home, I’m making my way home.
My mind’s already there.
Yes, my mind is
Light, you’re with me in the dark.
Light my way at night.
Let your light shine
Oh sweet melancholy, how you dwell in these winter months, even as I try to sweep you out with the dust and dirt. Too early, too soon, I know. The heart wants what it wants, and it wants spring now. That’s an impossible request. The heart, though, still wants. It is, perhaps, the saddest and most hopeful part of us, this heart that keeps on wanting, that spends its energies longing, that never stops until the day we die.
Now, this burden weighs me down.
The heaviest of weights
knocks me to the ground,
right down to the
Dew that sparkles on the ground.
Blue mountains loom above.
Blue mountains loom
This is winter music. This is a winter song. It makes one pause. It leaves space for listening to the fall of snow. It eases the muffled roar of the snow plow. It calms the rioting heart which launches brazenly into the winter madness, trying to rush through it all before it’s had its time. The music is languid. The sounds are soft. This is Ãsgeir.
And I walk alone; one wish
won’t be forgotten,
never forget that
Long, is the path ahead.
And though my body tires,
and I have far to go,
I know I’m going home.
Know I’m going home.
Maybe it’s this winter, maybe it’s some recent event, or maybe it’s just getting older, but home feels very far away. Once upon a time that might have bothered me. No, it would have frightened me, so terrifying had it been to think of such an unmoored state, such a little-boy-lost scenario. Yet I’m no longer afraid. I’ll make myself a different home. A better home. A home where I’ll always belong.
