I have a place to return to. When I am cold. Or forlorn. Or confused. Or delighted.

I have a place to return to. When I am cold. Or forlorn. Or confused. Or delighted. I have a place to return to. It is not perfect. I have cursed it at times, of late I heap blessings upon it.
But as they walk their trudging steps, hoods up and insufficiently dressed, to be cast away from that location too, I pray that I may still have a place to return to. And, may I have the fortitude to acknowledge it's a mirage, and that I must anchor more deeply.