There is within each of us a voice
which cries for home. Where this home may be, for each of us it is unique.
There are, throughout our lives, subtle reminders of that which is familiar
It is up to us to follow the voices which whisper eternally in our ears,
so that they may lead us to our final destination.
Consider the point within a circle. It has a few options.
One, it may only consider itself and remain nothing but a point - singular,
limited in perspective - ever and always but one thing.
Two, it may choose to look upon the circle beyond, saying "If I
lead a truly pure and pointed life, I may, in that which comes after,
aspire to become the circle."
Or three, it may simply see the circle as an extension of itself. A
continuation, perhaps. Or a reflection of that which it truly is. The
light of a singular star within Her ever expanding body. The glimpse
of a singular eye amongst Her robes of many.
It may seek to know the circle, reach outside of itself. And in this
seeking many things may happen.
It can overreach itself, to the point of madness, and self-destruction.
It can forget who and what it is, cast ever adrift upon the body of
the void. It can reach a level of stagnation, a dryness which it cannot
But ever and always above this, the point must always remember from
whence it comes and from whence it goes. And to always remember that
these two things are one.
For we begin from home, journey away from home, and return to home.
All the while that home is always within us. Nestling within our hearts
as a comforting flame.