I am listening to it now. The voice in my head that is the one true answer.
It speaks in images, and emotions, and sometimes words.
It is the only light in a sea of shadows and hungry fangs.
From my city on a hill, I can see hope.
Music plays on an old record player, and christmas lights dangle from the ceiling.
Birds are taking to the wing and I am watching as they swing
and turn and swoop and dive
in a merry-go-round of motion.
There is gold here; not a hoard, mind you:
Nonetheless, I will be filling up my coin purse and counting my pieces.
I am home now. May this peace last a lifetime.