The mind has no longer any desire
To be anywhere else for it has seen
The futility of its frenetic travels
I'll not trade the quiet of the night
For even Bach on the cello
This coming home is a coming back
Not going back to a native land
Where the dreams swirl in the dust
And the temple answers no prayers
The room seems bigger than it is
The furniture don't seem in the way
Who smiles back in the almirah mirror
Is someone who has arrived, at last
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