Prodigal Chronicles: Distance

by Joel Howard

We all crave and crave
That we'd find our own way
We crave uniqueness
We crave proper distance
We long to have a home of our own
We long to have it, safely to belong
But like the prodigal, who rushed to get it
His timing made a fool of him
And instead of waiting for it
And instead of slowly watering it
Like a seed in fool's hands
We employ extremes 
To obtain what we demand
We build walls around ourselves to earn it
And force away all who question how we did it
And what was once our key to freedom
Has become our greatest disappointment
The safety for which we had longed
Has escaped, and we're alone
Instead of happiness, for instance
We are left with none but distance

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