Heaven's Waiting

I'm going home. No, listen to me. Home. Not just back to the house. I'm going back to where I came from, where I need to be. That's why I've never really felt at home anywhere, because home isn't tangible. Can you imagine that the whole of life is just a long, long road and it's full of holes and rough bits and sometimes you want to go off road 'cos that grass looks so green and cool on your feet and there's all the barriers you have to go round or over? There are animals off road and sometimes you see them, sometimes you don't, but you know that they are dangerous.

But you have to get home. It's important, and if you don't then the world falls down and nothing is true anymore.

You might come to a branching in the road. There's an easy path, because there's always an easy path, it's there to tempt you. And you know you could go down there, no one's stopping you, but then you wouldn't ever get home. So instead you take the harder path and the stones cut your feet and every night the shadows of the trees at the side accuse you until you get past them to the barren lands.

It is desolate out there. The road stretches on and never changes; it's dusty and full of pitfalls and stones and it winds a little - not so much as to be noticeable, but just enough to make your brain ache slightly. After a while, the plodding and the dust begin to irritate you. The landscape never changes; it's flat, emotionless, boring and dry. There are no storms, no wind, no cold, no over bearing heat, no rain. It's just- blank. Even so, there's always the magnetism of home, pulling you in.

Eventually, you just don't care anymore. Through the forest, when the world threw everything it had at you, you glowered and stamped and laughed yourself silly. Through the wastelands, you grew bored and resentful. And now you just give up, just putting one foot in front of the other.

There is no one to talk to. There is no relief from the sameness of everything. But at the end, there is Home. It's a hard image to hold onto- that at the end of this never-ending path there is actually peace. As you carry on pushing towards it though, you realise that all this stuff you have to go through to get there is immaterial. It's not important. All the frustration at the trials and tribulations and the rest of it- it doesn't count. You get no marks for how well you did it at Home, because it doesn't make an iota of difference. You will have peace anyway. It doesn't matter how much work you did, the number of times you fell down. You will get there.