Snow piled pathways pave the way for sidewalks to lead me to another day.
Is it early morning or twilight? It's gotten too hard to tell.
I'm living in two time zones, now:
The first is where my heart resides a sense of new purity binding me to a culture and history that seems so close to me.
The second is home,
where my heart supposedly is,
where I grew from wistful youth
and fell into the pitfalls of adolescent strain,
where the truth inside me was once a deep endless well,
where I was able to find hope within others and myself.

Imaginary wings take me from one to the other
and clocks and computers remind me of the time
when I should feel selfishness for all that I've accomplished
and when I should feel lucky for what I now call all mine.