Far from home

This is my house,

My curtained folly;

When I had the earth to roam,

I sought a place to hide,

And now that I am hidden,

I can't bear to abide.

It's a strange condition

A universal curse,

That we long for that

Which makes us worse.

Always the other,

The one out of reach,

We win their trust,

And trust we breach.

And so it goes,

The sorry state of man,

Who fumbles and flounders

Through life the best he can.

© Sanjay Balachandran, 2022