Above the mountains the geese turn into the light again
Painting their black silhouettes on an open sky.
Sometimes everything has to be inscribed across the heavens
so you can find the one line already written inside you.
Sometimes it takes a great sky to find that
small, bright and indescribable wedge of freedom in your own heart.
Sometimes with the bones of the black sticks
left when the fire has gone out
someone has written something new in the ashes of your life.
You are not leaving you are arriving.
(House of Belonging, poetry by David Whyte)
