The House of Belonging   

I awoke
this morning
in the gold light
turning this way
and that  

thinking for
a moment
it was one
day
like any other.  

But
the veil had gone
from my
darkened heart
and I thought  

it must have been the quiet
candlelight
that filled my room,  

it must have been
the first easy rhythm
with which I breathed
myself to sleep,  

it must have been
the prayer I said
speaking to the otherness
of the night.  

And
I thought
this is the good day
you could meet your love,  

this is the black day
someone close
to you could die.  

This is the day
you realize how easily the thread is broken
between this world 
and the next  

and I found myself
sitting up
in the quiet pathway
of light,  

the tawny
close grained cedar
burning round
me like a fire
and all the angels of this housely
heaven ascending
through the first
roof of light
the sun has made.  

This is the bright home
in which I live,
this is where
I ask
my friends
to come,
this is where I want
to love all the things
it has taken me so long 
to learn to love.  

This is the temple
of my adult aloneness
and I belong
to that aloneness
as I belong to my life.  

​There is no house
like the house of belonging.   —David Whyte